Second Chances
by moirykins
Summary: Snape's past comes back to haunt him as the new DADA professor arrives, bringing with her a legacy and a past that will affect all of Hogwarts before the year ends. Super-long fic - be warned. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter One

"Severus, a word please."

The familiar voice stopped Severus Snape as he walked down the corridor, alone as always. He had been striding towards his office, preparing to begin yet another year of teaching Potions at Hogwarts. As with the start of every school year, he had hoped there'd be a change in the curriculum, but since he hadn't heard otherwise, he assumed he'd been passed over. Again. The voice in the hallway, however, brought the barest of glimmers of hope.

Snape turned on his heel and treaded over to join the headmaster of Hogwarts where he sat on a bench under a window. The summer sunshine poured in, and Dumbledore stared over his shoulder, looking outside with a wistful look in his vibrant blue eyes. With a sigh, he turned to look at his Potions professor, a tired sort of look crossing his face. It made Snape uncomfortably aware of many things; Dumbledore's age, the work he'd been pouring into the school and the Order, the struggles of the last few years.

"Severus, as you know, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has once again been left vacant. And, once again, it needs to be filled. However", he said, stopping the look of hope from spreading across Snape's face, "you will be remaining in your department again this term. You are, quite simply, more needed in Potions than you are in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He held his hand up to stop the protest that struggled to pass Snape's lips. "The discussion is over, Severus. I'm sorry. The Order needs you to remain where you are, and not for someone else to take your place".

Snape drew a painful breath. What hope he'd had of moving from the dankness of the Potions lair had, once again, been dashed. Why he even bothered anymore was beyond him. "Well, Headmaster, may I ask who was good enough to take the position?"

The look Dumbledore shot Snape was filled with more sympathy than the one he gave him seconds ago when he broke the news. Snape hadn't thought that was possible, and felt a cold shiver pass through him. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of Albus Dumbledore's sympathetic graces. In a small voice, the headmaster replied, "Desdemona Drecorum."

Snape remained seated at the bench, even after Dumbledore rose, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away. He couldn't have risen if he tried; his legs would have simply given out from under him. A look of shock, disbelief, and pain warred for control of his sharp facial features. He couldn't believe what Dumbledore had just told him. He never thought it would happen. Of all people to be filling the position he wanted to teach...after twenty-five years, it was almost too much to expect.

Desi was coming back to Hogwarts.

* * *

Students filled the Great Hall for the annual sorting and feast that followed. For the students, there were few changes. The only new face that looked back from them from the Head Table was that of a petite woman, with long auburn hair and striking blue eyes that could be seen from halfway down the Gryffindor table. Seated at that position, and making that observation, were a trio of students known the school over. Three heads were close together in rapid conversation; a mix of black, red, and brown hair known throughout Hogwarts as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

"She mubbe de new Defen Again the Dargarts purfesur" Ron mumbled, his mouth full as usual with the food laden before him.

Harry piped in. "But why is she sitting where crackpot Trelawney usually sits? Why isn't she down near Snape, like all the others?"

"Honestly, Ron, couldn't you at least swallow?" Hermione rolled her eyes at his freckled face. "Probably because she's the seventh person in as many years to hold that job, and Snape's been after it even longer. Dumbledore probably thought it prudent to separate them. Remember, he hasn't always been civil to professors in the past, and last year was certainly no exception."

Harry couldn't stop staring at her. She looked vaguely familiar, like a relative of someone he'd known years ago or something. The blue eyes that looked around the hall struck him, but it was more than just the eyes. It was the posturing, the way she seemed to look around the room, the aura that surrounded her. It was eerie, but he couldn't place it, and that bothered him. He was so intent on staring at her that he failed to notice when a hurled roll hit the back of his head. He barely heard Hermione's warning to ignore Draco Malfoy and his immature tactics. He hadn't even noticed Dumbledore rise and approach the podium.

"Welcome, students, to yet another year at Hogwarts. As many of you know, the times have indeed become troubled and dark, but within this school, we will remain as one large family, as we have for centuries. And now, I'd like to introduce you to the latest member of that family, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Desdemona Du-Drecorum."

Hardly anyone noticed the stutter in Dumbledore's introduction, but Hermione did. "That's odd. Dumbledore rarely ever makes mistakes like that."

"Aw, 'Miony, leave off him. He's probably had a long day, what with the order and preparing for today and all. Let it go", Ron said, preparing to stuff another bite into his mouth as Dumbledore's welcoming speech continued.

* * *

Desdemona Drecorum stared out at the large crowd of students before her. Her large blue eyes could pick out students whose parents she once knew. The pair of redheads at the Gryffindor table could only be from Arthur Weasley, she smiled. Poor guy stumbled through transfiguration but was incredible in Muggle Studies. Too bad he'd graduated her first year, otherwise they could have shared horror stories of transfiguration class. The white-blonde Slytherin looked so much like Lucius Malfoy it made her shiver and narrow her eyes slightly. A girl over in Hufflepuff looked like one of the many Abbotts she'd known in school.

Never once did she let her eyes graze over to the opposite end of the table at which she sat.

What possessed her to take this position? What in the name of Godric Gryffindor made her accept when that owl came, asking her to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class? 'Desi, girl, you knew better than that!' She told herself over and over. 'You knew he was here! You knew! What were you hoping to prove, anyway? Do you just enjoy raking yourself across coals?'

Desi had no answer for herself.

Then she heard the Headmaster's mistake during her introduction. Although she rose smoothly and gave a look of serene contentment when waving at the congregation of faces in front of her, alarms and bells went off in her mind. He almost...

'But he didn't, so never mind', her inner voice chided.

Finally, the feast was over and Desi was free to flee the Great Hall. Although she remembered being in awe of it once, tonight it had been nothing short of a prison. She smoothly rose from the table and walked out as if nothing was bothering her. Once outside, though, her footsteps quickened as she headed for her office. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw black robes swirl behind her as she rounded a corner. 'Not tonight...' she sighed in the safety of her mind, as she wrenched the heavy door open and flew inside the safety of the dark room, closing and latching the heavy door behind her.

* * *

"What kind of a day is this, anyway?" Harry moaned as he left his not-so-beloved Potions class, Ron in tow. "It's only the first day of class, and I've never seen Snape so unorganized, so distracted. What's gotten into him?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe he's been pulling late nights for the Order. Who knows? Doesn't matter; first time in forever where he hasn't assigned three feet of parchment on some trivial thing or another. I'll take this Snape over the overly-abusive-to Gryffindor one any day!"

Something didn't sit well with Harry. Snape had pulled long hours for the Order before, and had never looked so out-of-focus. This was something new. And odd.

Hermione grabbed both of them by the elbow. "C'mon, you two, or we'll be late! Defense Against the Dark Arts begins in three minutes! Don't you want to get there?"

Ron snorted. "Not if this one ends up as big of a crackpot as most of the professors in that class have been."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I overheard McGonagall and Flitwick in the hallway. She's shaping up to be almost as good as Lupin. Maybe we'll learn something with a professor for a change." Both boys just sighed and followed their friend to class.

When they arrived, they were in for a shock. All four houses were in one classroom, possibly for the first time ever. Since the war began, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a requirement for all the years, and not merely a NEWT level class for the sixth-and-seventh years, but still they'd never all been brought together like this before. An even bigger shock was the petite woman in front of the class. Crimson robes brought out the red highlights in her hair, and she watched them all enter with a careful stare. That was the only indication she was directing the class. She sat, casually perched, on her desk, the chalkboard behind her empty.

The only empty seats in the Gryffindor section were too close to Slytherin for comfort, but nevertheless Harry, Ron, and Hermione took them. Ignoring the snide commentary in a Malfoy-laced voice, the three pulled out books.

Finally, the woman spoke as she rose from her desk. "Good afternoon, class. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts for the seventh, and final, year for you all. As you all know from last evening, I am Desdemona Drecorum, and I will teach this class this year. Now, from what I've gathered, you've had an interesting few years of learning in this class. You've managed to have one competent teacher out of them all. Among them; a moronic idiot with more teeth than brain cells," (a comment which caused some sighs amongst the girls), "a zealot who wouldn't know dark arts if they offered to come over and decorate her home, a professor in disguise, and a lackey for Voldemort.

"And the first lesson for the day is this," she cried, after watching the vast majority of the room cringe at her use of a particular name. "I will not be wasting my breath by saying such drivel as "he who must not be named" or "you know who". Last I checked, uttering this particular name isn't going to cause the sky to fall or for me to drop dead from a lightening bolt, so the rest of you can stop being so scared of it as well. For crying out loud, his name is Voldemort, people. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" Every repetition of the name got louder, until she was almost screaming, and she stomped her foot with every word for emphasis. "So, get used to it."

She began pacing the room, which was difficult considering the number of students crammed into it. "For today, you can put your books away. I'm going to establish my parameters for this class, and then we'll dismiss. Some days, all four houses will be in here together, and that schedule is on the board." As she said this, she pointed her wand at the empty chalkboard, which instantly filled with words. "The rest of the time will be individual houses. All of you have different talents, and your houses pull together similar ones. However, you cannot all fight the Dark Arts equally. You need to learn how to do so in a fashion you are best suited for. Therefore, this schedule.

"As for this class itself, I want to begin by reminding you of what you're learning to defend against. It's all too easy to assume you understand, but rarely do you truly know. The Dark Arts is more than unforgivable curses or dark marks or evil actions." At every point, she stared hard at another student; her eyes seemed to hit every person in the room, almost all of whom stared back at her with equal intensity. "The Dark Arts are a choice, a way of life. A philosophy, if you will. The Dark Arts is not a destiny, not a fate, and not a birthright." At these words, her gaze burned into Draco Malfoy's shining grey eyes, and for the first time that Harry had ever known him, there was no smug look on his face. In fact, he looked slightly ashamed. "They are not, I repeat, a birthright. We all make a conscious decision, in free will, to turn our lives over to the Dark Arts or not."

By now, Harry could see the new professor's eyes shining as if there were unshed tears in them, and noticed her hands were clenched in shaking fists. Almost as if she noticed this too, she let go, spun on her heel, and walked back to the front of the class.

Breathing deeply, she turned again to face her students. "So, that being said, let us all recall that it is our actions, deeds, and choices that make up the Dark Arts. Not spells or potions or incantations. Free will. So, I will not tolerate any backbiting, any commentary, or any rude remarks about who may and may not end up practicing the Dark Arts. Anyone caught doing so in this class will lose fifty house points and serve a month's worth of detentions. Do I make myself clear?" When everyone in the class nodded in unison, she continued.

"Also, from what I understand, in previous years, you practiced Defense Against the Dark Arts in groups on your own. I strongly encourage you to continue this. In fact, extra credit will go to those who participate in such groups. Sometimes, there are things you need to work out for yourselves, and this will give you ample practice."

The professor continued, offering up commentary on how some of the best lessons in class aren't learned from books, how she expected students to bring common sense as well as their classroom intellect into the room, and other expectations. The class was dismissed with a buzz of excitement from every school house except Slytherin, who all seemed to leave with looks of self-reflection on their faces.

* * *

Desi sighed and sank into her office chair as the last of them left. Finally, she was alone with her thoughts. Why did she accept this position, she asked herself for probably the thousandth time. But she knew why. The owl had come, as she knew it someday would. The message inside was clear and direct, unlike the usual style of the man who sent it. Usually cryptic, for once, Albus Dumbledore was straightforward and honest.

"_You're the only one I can trust to teach this course that isn't otherwise working with the Order. I know the subject isn't your strongest suit, but you of all people know my reasons for hiring outside of the school for this particular class. You've been in hiding long enough; sooner or later the truth will have to come out. That might as well happen here. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I'm out of choices. Come back to your home. Desdemona, please, don't make an old man beg. Hogwarts needs you."_

The memories of the letter had consumed her; she never heard the rustle of feathers until she felt a beak at her hand, and a smooth head caressing the back of it.

"Fawkes, it's been far too long." Desi reached over to pet the phoenix, as she once had done many years before.

"He's missed you, Desdemona. As have I." An elderly voice spoke from the doorway, and Albus Dumbledore himself entered the classroom. "As you see, while some things in this world change greatly, some still stubbornly remain the same."

"That's something I'd never be able to forget, sir."

"Why the formality, Desdemona?"

She shot the headmaster a dumbfounded look. "Why? Because it's respectful, for one. My parents raised me to respect my elders." A sad sort of smile crossed her face.

He smiled. "Good. I had hoped it wasn't for some other silly reason. Now, how did your first day on the other side of the classroom go?"

Desi sighed deeply, a habit she was developing thanks to being at the school. "As well as expected. I think a few of the Slytherin house have something to think about, if nothing else. Other than that, not really much of anything. It's going to be a long year."

Dumbledore looked at her closely, as if measuring her resolve. "Reach them, Desdemona. If even one or two choose a different path than their forefathers, you've done the Order a great service. Reach them, and then teach them."

Desi rolled her eyes. "What makes you think I can?"

Dumbledore beckoned for his bird to sit on his shoulder as he turned to leave the classroom. "Because, dear child, you've done it once before, even if you don't realize it. I expect you can do it again. And besides, you were always my best student."

Once again alone, Desi sat, more confused than ever.


	2. Chapter Two

A month had gone by, and the tension had grown evident. Harry, Ron, and Hermione noticed two things at every meal. One, their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was never there. Two, their Potions teacher barely ate, instead constantly watching the doors and her chair, as if expecting her to appear at any moment. Whether or not anyone else in the school noticed was beyond them. However, something was wrong.

Hermione was the first to note that she never saw Professor Drecorum outside of the classroom. A week before, she'd gone to the classroom very late in the evening to test a theory of hers, under the pretext of having misplaced her wand. There the professor sat, a tray of food being taken away by one of the house-elves, uneaten, while she furiously working over several scrolls, ink bottles, and books. She searched the stands for her at the first Quidditch game of the season, while Ron and Harry led the Gryffindor team in a shut-out victory over Hufflepuff, and never caught a glimpse of her. Cautious queries of Hagrid and Nearly Headless Nick supported her theory: Professor Drecorum almost never left her office.

Ron, however, was paying attention to the other professor who was acting oddly. Snape vacillated between total distraction and total irateness. While sitting at his desk while the students worked on their assignments, he seemed as if he was in another world, staring into space. When Malfoy made the mistake of asking what was wrong, Snape took the first twenty points from Slytherin that Harry and Ron had ever witnessed him take. When they stared at him with gaping mouths, he took an equal amount from Gryffindor.

"It's obvious they know each other," Hermione announced one day as the trio sat outside in the shade, books in hand, pretending to study. "Just look at the way they acted around each other at the Sorting. He was fixated on her, and she did her best to pretend he wasn't there."

"I'd pretend he wasn't there too, if I had Snape watching my every move," Ron pointed out, closing his book and laying on the grass to ignore Hermione's frown for interrupting her. "Probably creeps her right out."

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his face, trying to stay awake. The burden of class work, Quidditch practice, and extra Defense classes had caught up with him. "There has to be more to it than that. Remember, she's the one who keeps harping us to remember that we make our own choices and not to judge others rashly. I mean, look at the lecture we got last week, all because Seamus uttered that comment about some Slytherins never change their scales. He'll be doing detention until Halloween. It's almost as if she thinks some good can actually come out of that house. But if she really believes all that, then why completely avoid the one person who represents the core of Slytherin House's ethics? I'm telling you, whatever's between her and Snape is personal. And believe me, I learned long ago to not deal with Snape's personal life." He fought to stay awake as he stared at his homework.

Hermione glared at him. "Well, I for one believe she's right. Just because most of the Slytherin students had Death Eaters for parents doesn't mean they will blindly follow suit. And besides, if it really is something personal, it's rude for us to snoop around and discover what it is. Teachers deserve lives too." And with that, she went back to reading her transfiguration book, with nothing more to say on the matter.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, a word please."

The throng of students pouring from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom made Professor Drecorum's request almost inaudible, but Harry caught it. Moving out of the way of his classmates, he stood by the door and waited for the small woman to approach him with whatever had caused her to pull him aside after class.

He wasn't kept long.

"Mr. Potter, Professor McGonagall is concerned that there's a scheduling conflict between Quidditch practices and Defense instruction in the evenings. Seems that Gryffindor has had to adjust their time to later in the evenings to accommodate any extra Defense sessions you would like to take part in. She's especially concerned after seeing you fall asleep on your broomstick at practice yesterday." Drecorum gifted him with a look that vaguely reminded him again of someone he knew, but he still couldn't place it. That bothered him. "Is this true?"

Harry nodded. Drecorum smiled slightly, concern still plainly written on her face.

"Mr. Potter...oh, hang formality, Harry, why are you putting yourself through all of this? Why are you working yourself so hard? McGonagall's not the only person who's come to me with complaints. Flitwick said you were snoring in class three days ago. Sprout told me some story about you confusing devil's snare and poison ivy. And they're only the ones who tracked me down today. In fact, the only professor of yours who hasn't come to me venting about Harry Potter's lack of sleep is..." Harry looked up as her voice trailed off. Drecorum shook herself, coughed lightly, and walked away from Harry and towards the front of the classroom. "Well, let's just say almost everyone's yelled at me and leave it at that. Harry, why are you taking this all on yourself?"

Harry looked at the professor as if she'd grown another head. She was kidding, right? "Why? Why? You really want me to answer that? Well, let me give you three reasons why. Voldemort, Death Eaters, and the Dark Arts. Good enough reasons for you? Or do I need to come up with another excuse for why I'm spending night after night on work for this class while trying to pretend to have a real life?"

Drecorum stared at the young man who stood behind her. Finally, after weeks of watching him keep silent in class, she'd gotten a spark of that fire everyone had told her about out of the famed young wizard. She knew how good he was at this subject; she'd watched him in class and at nightly sessions. She watched him even though he had no idea she paid attention. He was better than she was, to be perfectly honest. Better than almost everyone in all of Hogwarts.

Well, all except two people she knew.

"Harry, contrary to popular belief, I am well informed of what goes on in this school, despite the fact that I rarely venture outside this hallway. I know how you've been pushing yourself all this time, in this class and everywhere else. I had hoped you'd have come to your senses before now and realized that something had to give. However, I see that you're like your father was sometimes; stubborn to the core and reckless beyond comprehension. Let me say this to you: no matter how good the rationale, and may I point out that you have three really good reasons, you're not going to do yourself, this school, your friends OR the Order any good by falling asleep in class and half-killing yourself with exhaustion. Do I make myself clear?"

For a witch easily four inches shorter than Harry, she towered over him. She hadn't been this forceful with words since the first day of class. Harry swallowed audibly. "Yes, Professor."

She smiled at him and, from the pockets of her robes, withdrew a bar of chocolate. "Here, eat this, and let's discuss how to schedule your life so you can find time to sleep and save the world without resorting to a time-turner. I hate those contraptions. Sometimes you never know if you're going or coming!"

* * *

It was already the first week of November; the leaves outside were turning and fluttering away, school had been in session for two long months already.

Still, she avoided him.

It was becoming almost unbearable.

Severus sat in his office, his interest in reading over his students' assignments completely gone. As he had most nights since the school year began, the door from the outside hallway to his office was left open, his gaze permanently attached to the worn hallway outside.

The Potions classroom was in the lower depths of the castle, merely a minute's walk down the corridor from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. _Her_ classroom. How could the two of them teach and work in such close proximity and not eventually cross paths?

_Because she's evading you, you complete and utter fool._

It wasn't as if she didn't have all the reasons in the world.

Rubbing his face again, he yawned. Some of the candles had already burned out, and still he sat, waiting for her to go by. He'd already seen Potter walk by for the third night in a row. She had to do the same, eventually. Not even Desi could stay up working until all hours of the night.

All he wanted was to see her. To speak to her. To apologize to her.

She wasn't going to give him that chance.

"_Desi, please, listen to me..."_

"_Like hell I will. I can't believe you went through with it."_

"_Desi, I had to."_

"_No, you didn't! You didn't have to, Sev. Wasn't I enough reason for you to not do it?"_

He realized too late that she had been.

Gods, what a fool he'd been at eighteen. Severus wished he could borrow a time turner for five minutes and kick himself before doing the one thing that guaranteed destroying her. Without conscious thought, he rubbed his upper left arm; he always did when he thought about that night. He couldn't help it – so much of his life and his past resided in the mark that was burned into his flesh.

It had been his choice, and his biggest regret.

All he asked was a chance, a single chance to try and undo the damage done.

One more candle died, leaving the room decidedly darker. Looking up out of his reverie, he noticed that the clock on the wall read midnight. She couldn't possibly still be in her office; no professor was that dedicated. Without thought or intention in his mind, he stormed from his office and marched down the hall, flinging her office door open wide without as much as a knock.

The room was empty.

Exasperated, he looked across the room at the fireplace in the corner, and at the fire dying in the hearth. A small container of floo powder told him the rest.

She wasn't just avoiding him. She was avoiding him like the plague.

In his ire, he slammed her office door closed behind him and marched towards his apartments near the Slytherin dungeons, fuming with every step.

Dumbledore had to have known this would happen. The old man wasn't a fool by any means. He knew the history that existed almost as well as the two of them did. Better, probably, since he knew both sides of the tale as well as what had happened since that night. He had to have known the two of them would get along about as well Potter and Malfoy. Not to mention the fact that no one he'd asked had known where Desdemona had disappeared to all those years ago. Why ask her to teach here? Why invite her here in the first place?

As he reached his door, he sagged against the wood for a moment. He knew why Dumbledore asked her to come and teach.

She was the only person he could trust right now.

The realization cut him as deeply as hearing her name in that hallway all those weeks ago had done.

* * *

Harry sat in Desi's classroom for the third time in as many days, having yet another lengthy conversation about Dark Arts and the Order. Sometimes they could be really heavy, leaving Harry with a world of knowledge to think about. Even Hermione was left silent when he talked about their conversations at night in the Gryffindor common room.

"Think about it this way. You've lived your life as a fairly decent person, haven't you?" When he nodded, Desi continued. "You've made decisions on whether or not to be a kind person, right?" He nodded again. "However, you haven't always been a good person every moment of every day, right?" Another nod. "Well, do those few bad deeds outdo the good you have done in your life? Do they negate all the times you've been brave or sympathetic, the times where you've sacrificed or given of yourself?" Finally, a head shake. She smiled. "Well, let's say that Draco Malfoy walked into my office in a few minutes and told me he didn't want to be a Death Eater like his father and wanted to change. Do you think that's possible?"

Harry struggled for words. "But, Professor, Malfoy hasn't done a decent thing in all the years I've known him. All he ever talks about are..."

Desi stopped him. "Yes, yes, I know. Mudbloods and the Great Lord. I knew Lucius back in the day. But, let's say for argument sake that he did, would he be able to undo the harm he's caused all these years?"

Harry paused. "I don't know, Professor."

A wan smile crossed her face. She loved these chats with Harry; they reminded her of herself and another professor many years before. But the conversation was turning dangerously towards topics she's rather not discuss; topics that she herself didn't want to debate with her own conscience.

_Do as I say..._

"And that, Harry, is why we can't assume that someone can't be turned back from the dark and towards the light. A few good deeds or a lifetime's; it makes little difference. What matters is what's in the heart, and how we decide, consciously, to act. The rest isn't always as relevant. We don't know, so we must trust unless given reason to do otherwise. And with that, Mr. Potter, I think it's time for you to go home."

As Harry walked toward the door, he finally summoned the courage to broach the subject he'd been walking around all evening. "Professor, can I ask you a question?"

Desi nodded. "Of course."

Harry swallowed hard. "If you believe all of this, about someone changing and wanting to correct their mistakes and conscious intentions and all that, then why do I have such a hard time trusting Professor Snape? I mean, he was a Death Eater, but now he's a member of the Order. I'm supposed to trust that he has dedicated himself to good, but I can't find it in me. Dumbledore tells me to, but I can't. He still treats me as if I were his enemy, although he claims to be on the same side I am. I just don't know what to do anymore. Do you trust him? Do you believe he really is deserving of my trust and respect? Can I outweigh the harm he's done with the good he's doing now?"

Desi stood in silence for a moment, trying hard to swallow the emotions that wanted to overtake her. How to answer Harry's question? She wasn't even sure herself if she could trust him. After all, the last time she had...

"_Promise me you won't..."_

"_I couldn't take it anymore. Please, Desi, try and understand..."_

She shook herself. This wasn't the time or the place. "Harry, I haven't spent time recently with Professor Snape, so I don't know how to best answer your question, but I will say this. Some people make choices logically and with consideration of the outcomes. Others make them out of emotion and without thought of the consequences. Remember that, Harry. There is a difference between deliberation and rashness. Try not to judge him too harshly." She paused to try and stop her voice from shaking. "Now, I have another student coming in a moment. If you don't mind..."

Harry left quietly, reflecting on what she'd said. As he shut the door, he almost thought he heard her begin to cry.

And as he rounded a corner towards Gryffindor's common room, he wondered what Draco Malfoy was doing in the classroom corridors at this time of night.

* * *

The old man stood quietly in the doorway of the open office, watching the younger man add ingredients with care and precise measurement. He'd learned years ago never to interrupt a Potions master in the middle of their work. Nothing caused tempers to flare more than a botched brew.

Moments later, the tall figure finally turned to see the visitor waiting in the doorway. "Headmaster. To what do I owe this visit?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I merely wished to come and see how you were doing, given everything going on in the world right now. You didn't seem particularly surprised at the meeting last night."

Snape rolled his eyes at the man who employed him, in more ways than one. "Was I supposed to be? Dumbledore, I served as that man's minion. I'm well aware of what he is capable of, more so than some people give me credit. The fact that he has finally stooped as low as that neither shocks nor alarms me. I told you years ago what he was capable of..."

"And I well remember that conversation, Severus. And like I told you, years ago, I may not always appear to trust your abilities or give you the credit you feel you deserve, but I appreciate your knowledge and choices far more than you will ever know."

Severus wanted to glare at the man before him, but found himself fully incapable of it. Dumbledore had done far more for him than almost any living person on the planet, and he well knew it. Not a day went by when he wasn't duly reminded of the efforts the older man had gone to in order to save him from his own mistakes.

Sarcasm was no way to repay the debt.

Dumbledore cleared his throat nervously, causing Severus to jerk his head up. Nervous was not in Albus Dumbledore's repertoire. "There was another reason for my coming down here, Severus. I wondered how you were coping with your newest colleague."

No wonder he'd been nervous. Severus stared back at him in shock. "I'm not."

Dumbledore looked as if that had been the response he expected. "I know Desdemona can be a little stubborn, but..."

"Stubborn? The woman refuses to so much as breathe the same air I do! Coping is the least of my concerns right now. She floo-powders herself back to her apartments so she doesn't have to risk passing me in a corridor. She refuses to eat a single meal in the Hall. She is actively ensuring that the two of us never make eye contact. It makes me wonder, Headmaster, what exactly you were thinking when you asked her to teach Defense in the first place!" His voice was raising, echoing off stone walls, and for once he didn't care. "You and I both know I'm more than qualified to teach that subject material, and year after year I get passed over for someone else to mess up the class. We don't have the luxury of wasting time anymore with these children, but instead you ignore my abilities and in some moment of wisdom bring in the one person whose hiring is a slap in my face. How exactly am I to cope with that?"

Albus stood there, taking the harsh words that he not only had anticipated, but deserved. He was right; he'd been purposely avoiding moving his Potions master to the Defense classroom. However, the younger man didn't know the reasons why, otherwise he wouldn't be so angry. But as to hiring Desdemona...things weren't working like he'd hoped it would.

Neither of them were happy with him right now. But sometimes, occasionally, things needed to be done in the best interests of larger circumstances, even if it hurt others in the process.

He knew more about that unfortunate fact of life than either of his young professors could imagine.

Dumbledore looked into Severus' face, his deep blue eyes boring into the cold black ones that stared at him in anger. "One day, Severus, you will understand how. For now, all I can do is ask you to continue trying to cope. No one can avoid a person forever, no matter how hard they try."

The headmaster then nodded and walked from the room, leaving behind a confused and frustrated man in his wake.


	3. Chapter Three

Harry woke with a start. Where on earth was he? He pulled himself from a desk, groggy and exhausted and confused. The room was dark, and he was shivering with cold. Where was he?

He suddenly remembered. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, where he'd gone to hide and study. Everyone else was celebrating in Hogsmeade before the upcoming holiday season, enjoying the recent snowfall, or otherwise occupying himself, and he was behind in some subjects. Professor Drecorum had given him clearance to use the classroom whenever he liked, and somehow he'd managed to fall asleep, smudging the ink on his assignment for transfiguration with his face.

Looking up, he noticed a small crack of light that came from where her office was, behind the chalkboard and on the opposite end of the doors he'd used to come into the room. He had begun to pull himself together to leave when he heard raised voices coming from that room.

"You can't spend all year avoiding me."

"Oh yes, I can, Severus. Watch me. Now, get out of my office."

"You're not even going to listen to me, are you?"

"Why should I? You didn't listen to me, did you?"

Harry sat in shock. Snape must have walked in and went to her office. The sound of him coming in must have woken him up. Part of him wanted to sneak out before anyone noticed he was in the classroom. Part of him wanted to barge in there and order him to leave Drecorum alone. And a small voice inside wanted to sit and listen.

He wasn't given much of a choice. He dropped his quill as he shoved things in his bag, and it wafted in the air towards the classroom cupboards. As he went over to grab it, Drecorum stormed from her office in a rage, and Harry darted quickly into the empty cupboard next to him, closing it almost all the way so he wouldn't cause a scene.

"Desi, stop! Listen to me, damn it. Desi!" Snape ran after the Defense teacher, grabbing her arm as she wrenched the classroom door open.

"Let go of me! Severus, stop! You're hurting me!" Desi twisted and writhed, trying to get her arm out of his grasp.

"Not until you've listened to me. Not until you and I finally have this out!" Snape's voice shook with an emotion Harry would never have suspected of the man to have: lament. "Please, Desi. Let me explain." He dropped her arm and ran his fingers through his black hair, which had covered half his face seconds before.

Desdemona rubbed her upper arm where Snape had grabbed her. How dare he storm in her office, let alone manhandle her like that. Gods, if she had her wand right now...

"Fine. You want to have this out, let's have it out, Severus! Would you prefer the door to be left open for the whole school to hear, or shall I shut it to save your bloody reputation as the school's resident angst-ridden cynic?" With that, she slammed the door closed. She spun around, her auburn hair whipping the air. With a deep exhale, she stood with her back straight, arms crossed, lips narrowed. "Well?"

Harry huddled in the cupboard, holding his breath, trying to make sure he didn't knock anything around or make noise in the cramped space. Right now would probably not be the best time to bother the two. Not unless he wanted to challenge that prophesy hanging over his head...

Snape stared into blue eyes he hadn't seen in years. He remembered those eyes well. They'd been filled with kindness, with sympathy, with care and respect. Until one night, when he managed to fill them with pain and heartache and fear. To this day, he'd never managed to forgive himself for that. He stared at auburn hair that had always waved freely in the breeze under the trees on the edge of the forest. He stared at the one person in this world who had cared for him, unconditionally.

Until one night.

He'd been such a fool.

"Nothing to say, Severus? You come barging into my office at some insane hour of the night, drag me around my classroom, and then stare at me with nothing to say?" The blue eyes were cold, shooting daggers of ice at Snape. "Well, good. Because you're going to listen."

Desi clenched her palms to remind her to keep her anger in check. She'd always had a problem with that. "You have some nerve, you know that. To assume I even want to speak to you. I thought I'd said everything I wanted to say twenty-five years ago, Severus. I was wrong. From the moment I walked into this school, I knew I shouldn't have come here. Every day I sit in my office and I wait for you to come and remind me of everything I ran from this damned school to forget. Do you know the depths to which he had to beg me to come here, Severus? The near-blackmail? The guilt-trip he laid on me? It was insane, Severus. And do you have any idea why it was so hard to come back here? Because I knew I would spend every day figuring out how to avoid you!"

Snape tried to speak. "Desi...you have no idea...I know I...please..."

She cut him off. "I have no idea? Of what? Of the fact that you broke a promise to me? Of the fact that you broke my heart for me? Of the fact that the one thing in this world I begged you not to do, you went and did? Are you out of your mind, Severus? I have no idea? YOU have no idea!" She began to back Snape into a corner, poking him in the chest with her index finger with every point she made.

"Do you know what I went through for you? I spent an entire half an hour being sorted my first year. A record that still stands, if I recall. The whole time, the Sorting Hat kept telling me I was needed somewhere. When he finally called out Slytherin, the entire room was in shock. I received owls from my family for a week, in mourning over my sorting. And do you know what, Severus? I didn't care. Because by then I'd met someone who needed a friend like no one else in the world I'd ever seen before. I watched them pick on you on the train to school. Did you know this? I saw them mock you as I stood on stage waiting to be sorted. And after all that, I told the hat I needed to be in Slytherin, because someone there needed me.

"I spent an entire year just trying to get you to let your guard down enough to let me talk to you. I agonized night and day over how to get you to open up. To tell me your fears. To make you laugh. It didn't matter that I was four years younger. I didn't care. I just knew you needed someone in your life to trust, and against all logic and rationality and better judgment, I decided it was going to be me."

Tears began to slide slowly down Desi's cheeks.

Harry stood in the cupboard still, barely breathing. This was more than he'd ever wanted to eavesdrop on in his life. His nose itched, his back hurt, and all he wanted to do was run like hell for the Gryffindor common room. But instead he stayed. He didn't want to risk the sudden death that either or both professors would likely bring if they discovered that something this blatantly personal was being witnessed.

Snape stood, pinned in a corner, slightly afraid of the short woman who had backed him there. He deserved this. All of her rage and all of her anger. He had been the cause of it all; he knew that.

Desi continued. "I spent three years of my life by your side, Severus. When James Potter insulted you, I jinxed his broomstick. When Sirius Black teased you, I set fire to his robes. When members of our very house taunted you, I told Gryffindor the house password so they could come in and play pranks. I protected you, Severus. I stood up for you. Damn it to hell, Severus, I fell in love with you."

The tears came freely now, and Desi did nothing to stop them. Twenty-five years of torment, regret, and grief poured through her. "And then you came to me one night, burning with rage because they had gone too far with their teasing. And you told me you'd been listening to Lucius in Hogsmeade, and you'd decided to hell with everything else, you were going to become a Death Eater, a follower of Voldemort, and all so you could get your revenge on James and Sirius and everyone else in the world that'd ever hurt you. And I begged you not to, Severus. I begged and pleaded and cried my heart out. I made you promise me you wouldn't do it. And you did it anyway!"

She began to choke on her tears, sobbing uncontrollably, shaking and trembling. "You came back from Hogsmeade two days later with that...that thing on your arm, and you asked me to understand. How could I ever understand that, Severus? You. Tell. Me. How could I ever understand you wanting to sell yourself to that?"

Snape raised a hand to gently wipe the tears from Desi's face, but she snatched his hand and shoved it away from her. "I loved you, Severus. I was only fourteen, but I loved you. And you didn't give a damn. Instead, you just tossed that aside like it was some sort of useless trinket. Who cared if you had someone who stood by you when no one else did and who loved you more than anyone else had before? You were going to get your revenge, and that's all that mattered!

"I ran into the school to get away from you. I ran crying all the way to the Headmaster's office, and I begged him to let me switch houses. I begged and pleaded until he finally let me try on the Sorting Hat again. The first time in a thousand years, Severus, that a student switched houses. The only time in a thousand years. And do you want to know what it told me, Severus?" A sharp laugh came from Desi's throat somehow, edging its way through her tears. "It said that now I was no longer needed in Slytherin. It told me my purpose no longer existed. The only reason I was in Slytherin was to be there for you, to help you, to save you. And I'd failed. And the next day, I moved into Gryffindor.

"I spend another four years here, but it was never the same. It was empty, Severus. Cold. Dark. Grey. I hated these grounds, I hated these walls, and the first chance I got, I ran as far and as fast as I could. Because of you, I lost my heart. But I also lost my freedom, Severus. After you joined the Death Eaters, my grandfather had to move heaven and earth to protect me from Voldemort. He knew that he would come for me one day. And now, he had the man who held my heart by his side, doing who-knows-what to innocent people, all the while trying to cover his own anguish and self-loathing. Papa knew that, Severus. And because you couldn't care about me, because you refused to care about me, I lost my home, I lost my family, and I lost myself. I haven't been myself for longer than a few hours ever since that night. So, I truly hope you're happy, Severus. I hope the choice was worth it."

It wasn't. He hated himself; for being so weak as to not turn down that offer from Malfoy. Weak for not standing up for himself while a little girl found the nerve to do so for him. Weak for not having looked for Desi himself after he left Voldemort. And most of all, he felt weak because he walked away from the greatest gift anyone had ever given him, because it would take too much effort to return the gift in kind.

Harry's head was reeling with everything he'd heard. He was finding it hard to imagine a sympathetic Snape, one who actually managed to have someone fall...in love, did she say? With him? He could easily imagine him breaking his promise, but the rest? And her? In Slytherin?! Switching houses? Pieces were falling into place in Harry's head. Why she steadfastly believed that Slytherins could be good, why she believed in free will so strongly, why she had asked him to not judge Snape so harshly. He well remembered that day fifth year, and the memories he peeked in on. They still bothered him, and caused his inner conflict over trusting the Potions teacher. Now he knew why their Defense teacher avoided Snape like the plague.

He couldn't blame her.

Desi turned her back on the man she'd been screaming at for a good fifteen minutes, wiped her tears from her face, and wrestled with her self-control. Good havens, she'd never meant to unload like that. She hadn't ever wanted him to know how much she had hurt back then, how much she still hurt. How much it tore her heart in two to think about what might have been. Now here she was, stuck in a castle she'd grown to hate, standing three feet from the man who had caused her life to be turned upside down. All because of an old man's plea.

Snape finally spoke, in a low, faltering voice. "Desi, will you ever be able to hear my side? Will you give me a chance to try and explain? Can you ever begin to forgive me?"

Desi turned to look at him, the pain she held dearly mixed with sympathy. She could still see the fifteen-year-old she'd met in this colder, harsher man today. The fact that some of what she once knew and loved still remained shook her. She took a deep breath.

"Maybe, Severus. Maybe someday. But not today. Not now. Not tonight."

He nodded. He accepted that. Hell, it was more than he deserved, if he was honest with himself. He reached for the door and began to walk away from the classroom.

"Severus," a small voice called out, causing him to stop in mid-stride. He didn't turn; he just stayed where he was.

Desi swallowed. "To be fair, you weren't the reason I had to hide when Voldemort came to power. Don't carry that guilt on your conscience. It's not your fault my last name wasn't always Drecorum." She tried to slip past him in an attempt to make it to her apartments before losing control again, but he caught her arm again as she did. The look they exchanged said more than words ever could.

"Good night, Professor Snape," she whispered, as he softly let go of her arm and let her walk away.

Snape stood there for a full minute before walking away as well.

Harry waited another five before finally leaving the hot, cramped cupboard and heading to his dorm.

* * *

Snape's feet directed him without conscious thought. Finally, he found himself leaving the school and heading for a familiar spot; a trio of trees that stood alone off to one side of the school, near the Whomping Willow and with a breathtaking view of the moon-lit sky. The snow that had fallen crunched under his feet, and his breath hung in the air in clouds. He'd been teaching at Hogwarts almost twenty years, and yet he'd avoided this spot ever since he left the school as a student.

Ever since that night.

He kicked himself for what he'd done. All because he couldn't handle some taunting and teasing. He'd told himself that he had done it to gain control over his life. To gain power over those who'd sought to hurt and use him. It wasn't only Potter and Black. It had been everyone he'd known his whole life. Family. Classmates. Total strangers. Everyone he'd ever known had either ignored him or had done everything in their power to hurt him.

Everyone, that is, except one person.

He asked himself the same question he'd asked himself every single night for twenty-five years. Why hadn't he kept his promise to Desi?

Flashes of that night came back in his head.

_Sneaking off to Hogsmeade, late at night, no moon in sight. Following nothing but a head of white-blonde hair._

_The shivers down his spine as he entered a dark house, the only light coming from a fireplace in a far-off room._

_The fear in his heart when he beheld the man who would change his life forever._

_The pain in his left arm as he touched him, the mark burning his flesh._

_The reassurances from others that night that what they did was right. What they did was best. That the Dark Lord would rise victorious. That he would have his revenge._

_The return to the school. All the while feeling like he made the best decision he ever could._

_Desi's tears, streaming like rain, after he told her what he'd done. _

_His pleading with her to understand._

_Her running from him, never to speak to him again._

When he found out the next day that she'd been resorted, he was in shock. The whole school was; they didn't know why anyone would ask to be resorted, let alone actually go through with it. But he knew. He'd been the reason.

But he'd never known until tonight how much of the reason he'd been.

Then he remembered another night.

_The man who waited in his rooms. _

'_Severus, you know what Voldemort is doing is wrong. I know you're a better man than this. I've seen your character; you're better than petty hate and torture.'_

_The promises. 'Voldemort will never be able to reach you, as long as you remain at Hogwarts and under my protection. And no one will hold this against you, Severus. No one will ever have to know you helped us. No one will know you betrayed him. I promise you._

_The plea. 'Do this for my granddaughter, Severus. Please. If no one else in this world matters to you, think of her. I beg you, Severus. Do this for Desi.'_

_The agreement._

Did Desi know? Had she any idea that one night almost twenty years ago, Albus Dumbledore left Hogwarts and came to a small hotel in London, where a Death Eater sat alone, hating himself for years of evil done at his hands, wishing desperately for a way out? Had he ever told her of the agreement they'd made, and what it had taken for him to make it?

Did she know that he betrayed Voldemort to try to undo the pain he'd caused her?

'_It's not your fault my last name wasn't always Drecorum'_

He hadn't known anyone who had cared so much for anyone. He'd never known what it was like to be loved. To be protected. To be respected and liked and appreciated. Until his fifth year of school, when a young girl with shining blue eyes and flowing auburn hair had entered the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted.

She'd given him a gift, a chance to reclaim some of his own humanity and to find some peace in the world. She'd given him true friendship and understanding and companionship. Hell, she'd given him something no one had ever given him before: at such a young age, she'd blindly given him her heart.

And he'd thrown it all away.

He cried then. Snape couldn't help it. Tears of shame, regret, and anger fell, drop by drop. He leaned against the tree behind him and let them fall.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood by a window in his apartments, watching snowflakes fall carelessly from the sky. Below him, a figure in black stood in stark relief against the whiteness of the new-fallen snow. Behind him, a figure in crimson was curled on a couch in front of a fire, finally sleeping.

His heart went out to both.

Fawkes sat perched next to Desdemona, having offered what comfort he could. Even phoenix tears couldn't heal the pain she was finally letting herself go through. She'd come pelting down the hallway and into his apartments with no knock on the door, her blue eyes red from tears, her hair strewn all about, tear marks drying on her face.

It reminded him of another night, just like this, many years ago.

'_Papa, please!' A young voice pleading at his arm, crying as if her heart would shatter. 'I can't be in that house anymore. I can't let it twist me like it did him. I don't want to face that again. Papa, please.'_

_A man torn between obligation and commitment. Obligation to school rules and policies; commitment to his only granddaughter. _

_A decision. Let the hat choose. After all, it would have the final word._

_A choice made. 'Rise and leave, Slytherin no more. Now go home to Gryffindor'. _

_A young man left alone once more, with only pain and confusion to sustain him._

_A Dark Lord, growing more powerful every day. Another student he'd failed through carelessness. _

Dumbledore walked away from the window and stood by his granddaughter, brushing her hair from her face. Only two other times in his life had he seen her so upset, so distraught. One had been for the same reason as tonight. The first was the night he had to tell her that her parents were dead.

Fire burned brightly within Dumbledore's heart at that memory. He'd never considered himself a hero, a champion of right, and certainly not a villain's nemesis, until that night. Tobias and Cassandra had been two of Voldemort's first victims; his rise to power had caused concern within the ministry, and the aurors had been sent to deal with him.

They never came home.

As he held his granddaughter that night, Dumbledore swore he'd protect her. At the same time, he swore to protect the students. And thus began his working against Lord Voldemort.

Four years later, he held her again as she poured out tears of a new and fragile sort. He hadn't realized how completely she'd given her heart to the lonely Slytherin boy until it was too late. He'd been blind to their problems, and because of that, he'd failed them both. Right then and there, he made another promise to himself, to try and undo the damage that had been done that night. Which wouldn't be easy, considering the boy had given himself over to the very evil he'd sworn to fight.

It took him years to confront Severus Snape that night in London. Too long. Another in a long line of regrets. But he finally did. He thanked every god he'd ever heard of that he'd found him before it had been too late. Severus had done evil, yes. But not so much evil that it had tainted him. In fact, the opposite was true. Snape wanted to turn his back on the Dark Arts. At first, it had been a relief unlike any other for him. But slowly, bit by agonizing bit, the relief turned cold, the revenge grew tasteless, until finally, he had become the shade of a person that he'd been when Dumbledore had approached him. The first sign of life in his cold, empty eyes had stirred at the mention of Desdemona's name.

He gave Severus Snape the second chance he deserved, and Snape proved himself. While there were some character changes that might never fade, he slowly grew into a different person. Still lonely, still angry, but growing in confidence and ability. Compassion was hard for his to rediscover. He held bitterness to him as a blanket to keep him warm, and Dumbledore understood his reasons. Both of them knew that one day Voldemort would return, and when he called for his loyal followers, neither knew what would happen.

When it did, and Snape stood steadfastly by Dumbledore's side, he knew he'd undone some of the damage caused by his blindness to his students' problems.

The rest of the damage was curled on his couch, sleeping the deep sleep of exhaustion.

Dumbledore sighed deeply and extinguished most of the candles with a waver of his hand. 'Let her sleep', he thought to himself as he left his sitting room. 'Tomorrow will still come.'


	4. Chapter Four

An unspoken accord seemed to have been enacted over the next few weeks. Harry had decided to keep the scene he'd witnessed between the two professors quiet, not even telling Ron and Hermione. Something told him that was best; something that personal didn't need to be repeated verbatim.

For some funny reason, though, he was glad he had been in that room that night. For the first time since meeting him, Harry found himself trusting the Potions teacher a little more. He'd known Snape had been picked on and taunted, thanks to that little accident with the Pensieve. But having seen a side of him he'd never known existed forced Harry to see the professor as more human.

One major change since that night was that Professor Drecorum took sporadic meals in the Great Hall with the other professors now. She walked around the grounds occasionally, and even attended the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match. While she still worked fiendishly in her office, at a pace that Hermione envied, she showed her face more around the school.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked more and more tired every time Harry saw him. The normal energy that he seemed to flow with was waning. The few-and-far-between owls he received from Lupin matched what Harry suspected; Dumbledore was working far more than he should have been, trying to manage both the Order and Hogwarts. Harry rarely saw the Headmaster anymore, except for some meals and the rare sighting on the grounds.

Harry and Drecorum still spent hours each evening, discussing the Dark Arts and the theories behind them, as well as his other coursework. While he was still working far harder than he needed to be, he was at least awake for all of his classes, and doing remarkably well in them, all told. He enjoyed the talks; well, as much as anyone could enjoy talking about what turns people toward evil. They gave him an insight into a world he hadn't grown up in, and a world in which he was dedicating his life. The professor seemed to have an understanding as to what life was like for Muggle-kind, as well as the pressures he faced thanks to the prophecy that always hung over his head. She knew when he needed to laugh and forget, and when he needed to remember his place in the world. Somehow, Professor Drecorum made it easier for him to come to terms with what his life had become.

It wasn't all heavy conversation and philosophical debate. She treated him less like a student and more like an equal, something he'd craved over the last couple of years. She seemed to know stories and gossip about the school, the Order, and the people within, and had no problems sharing any of them with him. Lavender and Parvati had nothing on Drecorum; for someone who rarely left her classroom, she knew everything about the school and its students, past and present. An occasional tale slipped from her lips about his parents or Sirius; these moments in particular he cherished close to his heart.

One thing never changed. As Harry left Drecorum's office each evening, he sporadically caught sight of Draco Malfoy, loitering around the corridors.

* * *

Just because Harry was starting to respect Snape didn't mean he enjoyed Potions class any more than before. In fact, if it weren't for Ron and Hermione, he'd lose his mind. All of the tedious, miniscule measuring and stirring drove him mad some days. Slicing lacewings while stirring the mandrake juice and wolfsbane concoction counter clockwise just wasn't the thrill of his life.

Snape sat at his desk, rustling through different pieces of parchment as his students went about their work. For once, he couldn't care less if they blew the castle to Kingdom Come or not, and for once, his mind wasn't focused on the professor down the hall. The latest news from the Order was that Voldemort was planning to make his first major strike. From the pains in his arm, he knew that Voldemort was gathering the remaining Death Eaters to him. How Malfoy and the others had gotten themselves released from Azkaban still puzzled and confused the Order. Inside help, most likely. But they'd laid low since then. Now they were waiting.

For their master's command.

He remembered the call. Long ago, he too had answered it.

One thing never ceased to trouble him. By now, Voldemort had to have known he turned traitor. Spies, gossip, evidence seen with his own red eyes. He knew by now that Snape wasn't a death eater anymore. Why hadn't the Dark Lord tried to exact his revenge yet? He wasn't by nature a patient man, nor one who allowed traitors to go unpunished.

Why was he still standing?

Pain shot through Harry without warning, causing him to drop everything in his hands and clasp his head. His scar burned. That wasn't unusual; he'd been feeling sharp pains from his scar for years. However, once in a while, the pain surged, the sensation not unlike mild torture. Even though this had happened a few times in the past year or so, it still came as a shock. The pain consumed him, blinding him, finally making him yell out in pain.

Snape jerked his head toward Potter's table at the first sharp intake of breath and stared as the young wizard began to writhe in pain. He knew what that meant. Everyone in the Order knew.

Voldemort was angry.

Harry could barely see enough to sit down; the pain kept coursing through him, stabbing and throbbing. By now the entire class had stopped working on their potions and watched the wizard. Ron and Hermione stood by him, knowing there was nothing they could do but stay with him and offer to take him to Madam Pomfrey when it was over.

Snape rose to begin to walk over to Potter.

That had been his intention.

He never made it there.

The scar on his arm began to burn, as if he had been set on fire. From nowhere, sharp pains encompassed him. He felt as if his flesh was being stripped off of him; as if a thousand sharp blades were cutting him into the smallest of pieces.

Snape hit the floor at the same time Harry did.

Students began to scream at the sight of both teacher and student collapsing. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks over Harry as he lay spread-out on the floor, still clutching his scar. "Stay with him," Hermione ordered Ron, who had already ripped his robes off and were bundling them up under Harry's head like a pillow. She ran from the room, hair flying behind her, frantic to get to the closest person who could help.

Halfway down the corridor between Potions and Dark Arts classrooms, she ran into her target. "Professor, hurry. Potions class. Snape and Harry. Something's happening." Hermione choked out the words to Professor Drecorum as she gasped for air.

Desi stared at the girl who had almost bowled her over. A far-off scream echoed off the stone walls. Leaving Hermione to trail behind her, Desi gathered her robes and flew down the hallway as if she'd somehow charmed her feet to run faster than normal.

She entered a classroom in chaos. Half of the students surrounded Harry Potter, who had passed out, still clutching his scar. The other half surrounded their teacher, still conscious but writhing in untold pain. She ran to his side, literally shoving students out of her path without care.

He could barely see her; the pain was blinding. "Desi - the mark..."

She knelt down beside him, smoothing the hair from his face with one hand while gathering up a sleeve on his robes to see the hated mark with another. She jerked her hand away immediately from his left arm; she felt as if it had grasped hot coals.

If it had burned her through the fabric covering it, what must it be doing to him?

From behind her she heard voices; an older one mixed with the young. She spun around to face the two groups in the classroom, and began to bark orders in a voice that stunned the mob of people into complete silence.

"Prefects, get your students back to their dormitories NOW! Hermione, go fetch Madam Pomfrey. Ron, in my office there is a black glass bottle in my top desk drawer with a silver colored potion in it. Bring it quickly. Minerva, get Papa."

People stared at the Defense teacher who knelt beside Snape, gathering his head in her lap, trying to comfort him as he screamed in pain. McGonagall stared at her as if hit over the head with a troll's club. She saw that no one had moved except for Ron, who had pelted out the door as if his life depended upon it. "GO!"

People flew in every direction.

"Desi..." a weak voice uttered her name. She looked down into eyes wide with fear and pain. "Don't leave...angry... voice in my head..."

She took his hand in one of hers, using her other to wipe away the sweat and tears from his face. "I'm right here, Sev. Hang on." As he screamed again she held him tighter, constantly moving her gaze from him to the doorway and back. "Please, hang on."

Ron arrived with the potion a second or two before McGonagall arrived with Dumbledore. With the bottle in her hand, she gestured over to the other victim in the room. "Take care of Harry."

She grasped the cork with her teeth and yanked it from the bottle. Putting it to Snape's lips, she poured half of the potion into his mouth, making sure he swallowed.

As soon as he tasted the ice of the potion, Snape's eyes grew wide. "Desi...what are you...?"

She smiled weakly. "I'm putting a stopper in death, Sev." In one smooth motion, she choked down the other half of the bottle's contents. Instantly, the cold that slid down her throat was replaced with burning. Pain shot down her arms and legs, centering on her upper left arm, which felt as if a red-hot poker was constantly being held there. Her body felt like knives were cutting her in a thousand places at once. Her vision blurred, the pain caused her to scream, and as she fell over unconscious, she heard two voices.

One was across the room, ordering someone to stop her from hitting her head.

The other was inside her head, hissing a name.

_Severus Snape_.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood between two beds in the hospital wing. Both people were still unconscious, but alive and no longer acting as if they were being tortured by unseen hands. That was some small benefit. A third bed behind him held the most famous wizard of his age, who was sitting upright, eating his way through a pound of chocolate, trying to regain his strength.

"Headmaster," Harry called out between bites. "Are they...?"

The question remained unasked, but then again, it didn't need to be. With a sigh, he turned and walked to Harry's bedside.

"They're alive, Harry."

Harry breathed a sigh of his own, this one of relief. "I wasn't sure. The pain from my scar was enormous. Voldemort was angry, Headmaster. Far angrier than I've ever felt him."

Dumbledore took a seat next to the boy's bed. "Harry, tell me everything you remember. Everything you felt and experienced."

Harry described the screaming in his head, directed at Snape. About the fire that burned through him, the stabbing pains in his head, and the anger and pain that laced through it all.

"And then I passed out, Sir. I never even knew that Professor Drecorum was in the room."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, taking in everything he'd just heard. He silently damned his granddaughter for doing what she had done. Why she had done it, he understood. But it had almost cost Desdemona her life. As it was, it had saved Severus's, but right now that was still little comfort.

"Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore began to rise, but Harry stopped him.

"Professor, what did Voldemort do? What did he do to Professor Snape? How? I thought he couldn't penetrate Hogwarts. I don't understand."

"What he did, Harry, is known as the Caderminus Curse." Dumbledore explained. "It's rarely used, because the creator of it was Voldemort himself. He devised the curse as a final means of punishing his Death Eaters. He can call them to himself through their Marks, but he can also torture them and end their lives through it. Voldemort doesn't have to be nearby to attack Severus. Why he waited until this long, however, I cannot answer. As to your reaction, I can only guess that being in such proximity to the person Voldemort was directing the curse at, along with the feelings you received from the wizard, caused you to experience it stronger than you normally would have."

Harry swallowed. Not exactly a pleasant way to die, and he felt even worse for Snape, since he had left Voldemort's ranks, had gone so far as to help the Order fight him. Even more for Harry to think about the next time those cold eyes glared at him from across a room. "But what about Professor Drecorum? Why is she in here?"

Dumbledore stole a glance at his granddaughter, still resting peacefully in the hospital bed across the room. "Because, Harry, she used a very powerful potion to save Severus's life called the Acupartio potion. It is taken by two people in order to share and relieve the pain and suffering that one is experiencing. It is rarely used, and difficult to create, but is highly effective in protecting someone from dying. That's why it's often referred to as the 'stopper in death'."

Both student and headmaster sat in silence, both minds reeling as they tried to take in the events of the last hour.

* * *

From the darkness, images began to race through Desi's mind, feeling like memories but acting like dreams.

_Cruel laughter coming from her throat, wand in hand, uttering words so dark they invoked fear from those in front of her. Flashes of light; screams of torment. _

_Laughter at someone else's pain. A twisted feeling of satisfaction. Of revenge. Of peace._

_Another crack of light. Cries of horror echoing in her ears. Watching figures she didn't know thrash in agony. _

"_Tell me..."_

_More whimpers through tightly-shut mouths. More light. More pain. More wrenching torture. More diabolical laughter. People crying out for the agony to stop. Words she'd never spoken before. Another flash of light._

_A final scream. Then silence. Loud, deafening silence._

_Guilt flooding her mind. 'What have I done?'_

_Begging someone to let her stop. 'It's wrong'. _

_Her own torture beginning. _

_Pain shooting through her; arcs of fire across her back as if she was being whipped, blades on her skin cutting into her flesh, lungs burning as if she'd breathed in poisonous fumes, her throat tightening as if being strangled. She thought she was about to die. Part of her welcomed death openly._

_The pain suddenly ceasing._

'_If you ever ask to leave my side again...'_

_Fear. Terror. Guilt. Horror. _

_Hiding from prying eyes. _

_An offer. Salvation. A second chance._

Desi shot up from her bed, drenched in sweat, her mind racing, her heartbeat to match. Looking around the room, she found herself alone, except for another sleeping patient in the bed next to hers. Gulping air, she reminded herself over and over that they weren't her memories. They weren't her memories. They weren't her memories.

She finally believed herself.

Quietly she slipped from the bed and slid her wand into her robe pocket. Then she stood by Severus's bedside for a moment, staring at the man she once vowed never to forgive.

Tears fell from her blue eyes, landing on the bed sheets. She'd forgotten one side effect of the Acupartio potion. The pain didn't have to be physical for it to be shared.

He stirred in his sleep. Probably reliving his torture, as she just had.

With a whisper, Desi walked away from the hospital wing.

"I forgive you."

She stormed through the hallways of Hogwarts, through passages she hadn't walked down in years, plowing through students of her way with little effort. Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories, she caught sight of the person she was looking for. She grabbed the back of Draco Malfoy's robes and spun him around easily. The look of shock on his face was the only reaction she saw. She ignored every other face in the corridor, most of whom stared at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

"The next time you write your father, let him know that Desdemona sends her love, and to remember that she owes him a little favor."

With that, she let go of his robes, turned on her heel so forcefully that her hair whipped his face, and stormed off again, leaving a large group of confused Slytherin students in her wake.

* * *

Severus jerked awake, daylight pouring over him from an open window. That was new; he kept his apartments in total darkness, with the curtains always drawn closed. Where was he?

Then he remembered. The pain, the feeling that Death was finally on his doorstep.

Desi and that damned potion.

He groaned as he sat up in the bed, shaking the grogginess from his head. A throat clearing behind him told him he wasn't alone.

"How are you feeling today, Severus?"

He looked over his shoulder at the man to whom he owed a debt of gratitude he could never repay. "She shouldn't have done that, Headmaster. She should have let me die. She should have let him end it once and for all."

Albus Dumbledore looked at his friend and colleague with eyes brimming with compassion and understanding. "Severus, you of all people should know that Desdemona could never have let that happen. Even in her darkest moments of despair, in her fiercest anger, she would never wish such a fate onto you. You matter too much to her."

Severus rose from the bed, gathering his black robes up around him, pulling himself up to his full height as if to help himself forget he had ever lost composure the day before. "I didn't deserve that from her. She risked her life, taking that potion. You know it, I know it, and I know damned good and well she knew it. What possessed her to act so foolishly?"

Dumbledore sat in silence for a moment as he allowed Snape to vent his frustrations. He'd asked his granddaughter similar questions only a few hours before. The answers hadn't necessarily shocked him, but had left him with things to think about.

"_Should I have let him die before I gave him a chance to explain, Papa? Before either of us had a chance to apologize and listen and try to make things right? Should I have allowed that to happen, knowing full well I had to power to stop it? I'd have been no better than the person he became. I don't have the right to make that kind of decision. You taught me that, remember? You taught me that, good or bad, it is our decisions that make us who we are. I decided to walk the noble and self-sacrificing road years ago. I couldn't turn back now if I tried. Besides, Papa. If I hadn't, I'd never be able to live with the fact that I never gave him another chance..."_

"Perhaps, Severus, the thing that possessed Desdemona to save your life is the same thing that possessed you to make a choice yourself, several years ago. Just because we can't make things right again doesn't mean we don't wish to. You might want to think about that before cursing my granddaughter for saving the life of the man she claims to love." With that, Dumbledore nodded once and strolled from the hospital wing, leaving a confused and bewildered man in his wake for the second time this term.

* * *

"Don't you come in here screaming at me, after I throw all caution to the wind just to save your ungrateful, selfish, thoughtless, cold-hearted hide!" Desi screamed at the man standing before her, her hand itching to reach for the heavy paperweight on her desk to heave at Severus Snape's oversized head. "How DARE you come in here with some high-and-mighty attitude, berating me as if I was only twelve years old and you'd caught me too close to the Forbidden Forest all alone on a moonless night. If I recall correctly, you were dying on the classroom floor, begging me not to leave you. And here you come, storming in, all to ask me what in the blazes was I thinking?!? You overly-arrogant, inconsiderate, foul and utterly stupid creature! GET OUT!"

He stood his ground, roaring right back at the woman before him. "If I recall history correctly, you WERE too close to the Forbidden Forest all alone on a moonless night. And you deserve to be berated for doing something so damned foolish. Did you think to consider what would happen if you-know-who found out I not only lived through that curse, but that the granddaughter of his second-worse enemy was my savior? Did you think, Desdemona, that you are probably now marked on his list? Did you think, for one bloody second, that taking the potion wouldn't be enough, and there would have been TWO dead bodies on the floor? Did you think AT ALL?!"

"His name is VOLDEMORT, damn it! And I'm already on his list of people-I'd-like-to-barbecue-today-because-I-can, so that little concern of yours can take a swan dive off of the North Tower for all I care. And yes, your high-and-mightiness, believe it or not I DID think!"

Desi stopped her vocal theatrics long enough to take a deep breath and count to ten. Twice. "I thought about the fact that you didn't deserve such a fate. I thought about history, and the present, and long talks with my grandfather. I thought about the fact that I didn't have the right to watch you writhe in pain, when the solution to it all rested in a little bottle that I've carried almost every second of every day since I came to this hellish place! I thought about the fact that I loved you once, and I could love you again, and I couldn't let that chance slip through my fingers. I thought about the little girl I was and the person I am and how much I have grown, and that you had to have done some growing of your own. But most of all, I thought about you, Severus. I. Thought. About. You."

Once again, he stood in front of Desdemona in shock. The feeling was becoming too routine for his tastes. He hadn't believed it coming from the Headmaster's lips, but now?

Could she forgive him?

Desi walked up to the man who stood dumbfounded in front of her. Her voice dropped in volume, and her posture relaxed slightly. Humility was never easy for her, and right now, it was ten times the challenge. "Sev, my grandfather forced me to finally recognize that the simple fact that you walk these hallways is a testament to the fact that you've changed. Seeing you on the floor, in agony, paying the price for your choices forced me to see it again. I haven't forgotten what you did all those years ago. I can't. It's become so much of who I am. But to continuously judge you for something that neither of us can change, for a choice you made when you were young and stupid, for a decision that you've regretted and worked to rectify, to do all this makes me just as blind and stupid as I've accused you of being. I couldn't live with myself if I let that happen. That's why I did what I did. That's why I used the potion. And that's why I saved your life. So, you see, I had a lot on my mind when I made that 'inexcusably stupid and irresponsible decision', as you called it." Desi looked at his face, blurry through unshed tears, and then began to walk away from him.

Severus couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Nor would he be as stupid as he had been in his youth. He made this mistake once; it wasn't about to happen again.

"Desi, don't leave." He took a deep breath as her steps ceased halfway between where he stood still and the door to the hallway. "Don't leave without letting me say how much I have regretted that choice since the day I made it. When your grandfather came to me that night, begging me to leave that life behind, I did it because I thought that it might, in some small way, make right what I did to you. When he told me you were coming here to teach, I hoped I was ready to face you and your bitterness. I know what I did to you, Desi. I've spent half a lifetime trying to figure out how to erase it."

He walked around her, putting himself between her and the door. In a hoarse, deep whisper, he continued. "The fact that you'd try to throw your life away just to save my worthless, undeserving existence scared me, Desi. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you, if it were because of me and my utter and complete stupidity and lack of consideration. I may have done some incredibly rash and unforgivable things in my life, Desdemona. But I never once stopped hating myself for hurting you."

First one solitary tear slid down Desi's cheek. Then another. A third followed quickly, and before she knew what was happening, her body shook with uncontrollable sobbing.

Arms supported her just as she thought she was losing balance. Hands drew her in, holding her, protecting her as she clung to black robes and cried into a shoulder. Fingers brushed her auburn hair from her temple, smoothing away some of the tears from her cheeks. Lips touched her forehead, bringing with them a bittersweet heartache.

The tears finally ceased. Desi pulled away, an odd little laugh escaping as she did so. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have papers to grade..."

Her words ceased as he bent down to kiss her, pain and bitterness and a rift twenty-five years in the making fading into the distance as he did.


	5. Chapter Five

The fire burning brightly in the living room illuminated on several people congregating in Albus Dumbledore's apartments. Besides his granddaughter, those who had taken seats around the fire, including Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Professors Flitwick and Sprout, who sat at a table off to the side. Standing alone in a corner, trying to be invisible from the group, was Harry Potter.  
  
"I still fail to see what the boy is doing here." Severus snarled into the cup of tea the Headmaster handed him, despite the fact he had declined the offer of it. He hated tea.  
  
Desdemona rolled her blue eyes towards the heavens, counting to ten as she did. "I'm the one who invited him to this meeting, Sev. It affects him as much as it does the Order and us. Besides, from what I hear, every time Voldemort starts something, sooner or later Harry Potter is neck-deep in it. At least this way, we'll know when he's shoulder deep so we can do something about the situation. He deserves this, Severus. Before the end comes, he will be involved, like it or not." She clenched and unclenched her fists again in an attempt to keep her temper in check.  
  
Dumbledore passed the final cup of tea to McGonagall, seated himself in his favorite purple-cushioned rocking chair, and began to speak. "First of all, you all know by now the events of three days ago in the Potions classroom. Obviously, Voldemort is capable of coming after one of our own, even from within his hideaway, which according to my informants is currently in the Swiss countryside. Why he chose this particular time to strike still isn't clear. But we must continue to work to bring his plans to ruin, despite the potential risks.  
  
"As far as the running of this school, I have come to a decision. The charades are over. Everyone in this room knows that Desdemona is my grandchild. Most of you have known for years. The secret is out, and hiding behind a false name isn't going to change matters. There is no point any longer of concealing that little piece of information." He held up his hand to silence the protest he saw Severus about to make. "Desi agrees that the danger to her is inevitable. From here on out, there is no longer a reason to pretend something that isn't the truth." He smiled inwardly at the exchange of looks between the two: unflinching stubbornness and overt protectiveness. He wondered who else noticed. As for himself, he was grateful the feud was over; by the smile in his granddaughter's eyes, the past was beginning to resolve itself.  
  
However, this wasn't the time to reflect on the past. "Secondly, a number of students have already, or will soon, come of-age. Many of our students have important decisions to make concerning the impending dangers that lay in store. Regardless of what their decisions are, we must ensure they are made freely and openly, without duplicity or misguidance. We must work to make sure those decisions are made with full knowledge and understanding, for if we do not, we fail them all." He purposely avoided the glances of the two of them this time, focusing instead on the rising vapors from his teacup. His guilt still overpowered him. The pair of them may have begun to heal their rift, but it didn't undo the damage he'd helped cause in the first place.  
  
The discussion moved from there to pieces of news from the Order of the Phoenix. Intelligence, theories, strategies. Harry's head spun, and he never once spoke. However, he felt included. For once, he was let in on the inner workings of the Order, of Hogwarts. It was more than he'd ever expected; in years past, everyone had worked to keep him out of the loop; they felt it was best for him to know as little as possible. However, Drecorum had brought him with her tonight, demanding that Dumbledore let him sit in on the meeting. Hearing her call him 'Grandfather' had been a little shocking. Equally shocking was seeing her take a seat next to Snape, the two of them infinitely more comfortable with each other than he'd remembered them being. Then again, he thought, potential death had an interesting effect on people.  
  
A few times he caught strange looks from Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and even Dumbledore himself. Looks filled with compassion as well as acceptance. A wink came from Drecorum. Even Snape had stopped glaring daggers at him, and had simply forgotten he was even there. No small miracle, in Harry's eyes. After six years of quiet seething stares, blatant ignoring was blissful.  
  
Harry hadn't realized the meeting was over until teacups settled on tables and chairs shifted. As people began to rise, the Headmaster made one more announcement. "Finally, a change will take place concerning the conducting of two particular classes starting tomorrow morning. There is no longer a reason to pretend that Severus is not qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and starting tomorrow the class is his. It should have been his all along, but circumstances what they were, it wasn't prudent. Desdemona will take over Potions. It is, after all, her strongest field of study."  
  
Snape's jaw fell, his face a case study in surprise and confusion. His wasn't the only one; in fact, the only person not surprised was Desdemona herself. He finally regained the power of speech. "With all due respect, Headmaster, do you think this wise? Once it gets out that I'm teaching the Defense class..."  
  
"You'll be in no less danger than you have been for six years, Severus." Dumbledore silenced the man with a look. "The fact that you're even here at Hogwarts is enough. We both knew this day may come. I repeat, the charades are over. No more hiding you in the Potions classroom to protect you. No more pretending to hate everyone and everything in this castle. And most importantly, no more of this animosity between you and Mr. Potter. It ends here, tonight. The Order doesn't need this. Hogwarts doesn't need this. There is no more purpose to it. Settle this, Severus. Now."  
  
Harry stood in the corner in shock, the wall he had been leaning against supporting his lanky frame. He felt as if his world had just been turned upside down. Across the room, a similar feeling was shared by his professor.  
  
"No more hiding me in the Potions classroom?" He sounded torn between insulted and perplexed.  
  
Desi rolled her eyes at him, wishing for something to hit him with. A glance around the room showed nothing within her reach. "Seriously, Severus. It hasn't been made clear to you by now? As long as you weren't teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, you were safe. As long as you acted as if you loathed being here, Voldemort was free to assume whatever he wished. Until he reappeared two years ago, he had no way of knowing you even betrayed him. Until that night when he called the Death Eaters to him, he didn't know. As long as you acted the poor, downtrodden, sullen, angry, bitter, contestable Severus Snape, no one would be any one the wiser. My grandfather hasn't been slighting you all these years, you complete self-involved moron. He's been protecting you. Bloody hell, Sev, sometimes you're thick!"  
  
"But...but...Potions..."  
  
"What do you think I've been studying in America all these years? There's not exactly loads of countryside away from prying Muggles when you're hiding in a huge city. At least Potions can be learned in relative peace and quiet. Besides, if I recall, the reason you passed your Potions OWLs in the first place was because I helped you study for them. AND I was four years your junior at the time." Desi yawned, rising to her feet and heading for the door, effectively silencing his protests. "It's been a long day, and tomorrow isn't coming any slower. I have a new lesson plan to write, so if you will excuse me, I'll be on my way."  
  
Harry was the last to leave, thanking the Headmaster for finally bringing him into the fold. With an admonishment to thank Desdemona, he offered Fawkes a bit of cracker and began walking to his dormitory.  
  
On his way, he caught sight of two figures heading towards the Potions classroom, one inches taller than the other, who was dressed in scarlet.

The next morning, the chaos began.

Desdemona faced the seventh-years again, this time in the front of another classroom. Before students could register shock at not facing the foul-tempered man who usually cast admonishing glares across the room, she informed them of the change in curriculum.  
  
"But that means..."  
  
"He can't teach us half as well..."  
  
"But what about the optional reviews?"  
  
"And I was just beginning to enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts." (that remark coming from Neville Longbottom's direction)  
  
Desi held her hand out for silence. "Silence! Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and myself feel that this is in the best interests of the students and the classes. I've taken you about as far as I know how with the Dark Arts classwork, to be perfectly honest. There are some things I am ill-equipped to teach you. However, there are things I can do with a cauldron that Professor Snape has yet to attempt, talented beyond comprehension with potions though he is. Some of those are the most complicated potions known to exist. Current events being as they are, we will begin to practice these potions. You never know," she paused, looking into one pair of green eyes at the back of the class, who returned her stare with an understanding beyond his years, "just when you may need such a potion. They may be the difference between life and death."  
  
Down the hallway in another classroom, the former Potions teacher began to teach his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As he corrected pronunciations and intonations with a distinct patience his students had never before witnessed, he prayed for the thousandth time that day that Desi and her grandfather knew what they were doing.

* * *

The change in curriculum didn't change one thing. Harry and Desdemona still held their late-night conversations, just in a different office. They discussed everything that they could think of, from Voldemort's origins to the impending future. She wrote letters of recommendation to the Ministry of Magic to smooth the way for him to become an Auror. That led to heart-to-heart conversations about their parents, both victims of Voldemort's rage. He asked her about how she dealt with the pain; she asked him how he dealt with his unwanted celebrity. Everything imaginable was free range for the pair to talk about at will. Only one topic remained untouched – her connection to Snape.

Sometimes he appeared in the doorway during the conversations, nodded at them both, and left. Other times he sat in the classroom, waiting their conclusion. He was trying to settle his peace with Potter, but it was slow going. Yes, some of the hatred was manufactured, at Dumbledore's request. Yet another of the charades that had gone on in order to protect everyone's best interests. However, not all of it was fake. He still hadn't forgiven James for the taunting and the tricks. On the other hand, in all honesty he had to say that Harry Potter was not entirely his father's son. There were pieces of Lily in his personality; more so than he'd ever wanted to ever give credit. He couldn't blame the son forever for the sins of his father.

That self-realization had cost Severus Snape a great deal of humility. It also didn't make him any less solitary.

Only Desi did that.

Tonight, he waited in his own office. Desi had asked him to stay away from the office tonight; another meeting, after Potter's, that she didn't want him to intrude upon. He sat in the darkness, perplexed. She hadn't been acting like herself the last couple of nights. She'd been spending hours locked away with Dumbledore and emerging as if she'd faced the fires of Hell itself. However, her pleading look to just give her this needed space caved him.

As Harry left the office, he ran into Draco Malfoy, running full speed and whiter than normal in the face. Draco shot him a look that could leave a layer of ice on a pitcher of water before smoothing his robes and strolling into the classroom himself, trying ineffectually to act as if nothing was wrong.

* * *

"But why would Malfoy scamper over for late-night conferences with Drecorum in the first place?" Ron was confused by the tale his best friend had just related. "Until a week or two ago, she taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now Potions. But why? He's not failing either class by a long shot, and I doubt it's for extra credit. Besides, it's not like he's ever going to defend against any Dark Arts, you know."

Hermione huffed across the table in the Gryffindor common room. "Honestly, Ron, why do you assume that's Malfoy's plan? Am I the only one to notice that Draco's been acting slightly odd lately? It's like ever since that day with Snape in the Potions class, he's been much more subdued. He's stopped harassing Harry, which used to be his favorite pastime. He's quiet and hardly eating at meals anymore. There's just something odd about him. Maybe he's been having second thoughts..."

"Second thoughts? Hermione, his family has practiced Dark Arts in one form or another for centuries! It's not exactly in their nature to suddenly go "oh look, a downside to being evil, maybe I'll stop." Ron spat back at his friend. "Besides, why go to Drecorum when the Head of his own house is a bloody former Death Eater? Why go ask her for advice when the king of all knowledge about things that go avada kedavra in the night rules all of Slytherin?"

That one stumped Hermione.

* * *

Harry discovered the answer that night, when he himself went to Drecorum's office.

"Not now, Harry. I'm sorry, but not now." Desdemona was pacing her office, dusting a mantle here, adjusting bottles of ingredients there. Nervous energy was being burned up at an incredible rate.

Harry was stunned. She'd never been short to him before, not like that. With a murmur of apology, he walked out the door.

As it shut, he heard the crashing of glass. Once. Twice. Then a scream.

He burst back in the room to find bottles smashed against the far wall and his Potions professor heaving as if she'd just attacked some creature who'd tried to assault her. Except, there was no creature. Just a woman in a state of rage and a room full of breakable items.

"Professor, are – are you sure you're alright?" He stammered the question out, still only halfway back into the room, preparing to bolt if anything flew his way.

Desi grabbed another bottle off the shelf, this one containing beetle's eyes, and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces like the others. "No, Harry. I'm not alright. And before you ask, no, there is nothing you can do to help. No one can right now. Not you," another vial hit the wall, "not Severus", another, "and not my grandfather." A final piece of glassware flew across the room. "It's wrong! This whole damned thing is wrong! He made a choice, and no one's listening, and no one cares, and everyone says there's not a damned thing we can do about it and it's Just. Not. Fair. He changed his mind and no one will listen, and now his life is going to be decided for him unless someone does something. I don't give a damn who tries to stop me. I'm not going to stand aside and let his life be ruined just because of some cosmic plan that he had nothing to do with! I WON'T!" Having run out of potions ingredients close at hand, she began kicking desks around the room in a violent rage. Harry stood by the door, still prepared to bolt, completely shocked and unsure of how to cope with this angry, out-of-control terror that had replaced Professor Drecorum, but not willing to leave her alone to her fury.

Suddenly, the tantrum ceased. Desdemona's head jerked as she spotted something in the distance outside through the small window that barely showed above the ground. Without a single word to Harry, she stormed out of the classroom, half-running down the hallway.

Harry ran to the window to see what caught her attention. In the distance he saw two figures heading towards the village of Hogsmeade. One was marching with purpose while dragging the other, who struggled to free himself from the iron grip on his arm.

They both had white blonde hair.

A few seconds later, a figure clad in crimson was visible against the snow, following the pair.

Harry did the only thing he could think of to do. He pelted down the corridor, heading straight for the one person that came to mind.

Snape.

He found the new Dark Arts teacher in his new office, scribbling furiously on several scraps of parchment. Gasping for air, he clung to the doorframe. The professor's head jerked at the sudden intrusion.

"Potter! What in blazes are you doing here at this hour of the night?"

"Drecorum upset. Chasing Malfoys into forest. Something about a choice. Heading towards Hogsmeade..."

Severus stared at the young wizard in disbelief. "What?"

"Went to visit her. Throwing things, kicking things, screaming about choices and cosmic plans and no one listening. Saw the Malfoys out the window. Draco and his father. Struggling. She went after them." Harry was still short of breath, but had at least stopped gasping after every word.

Snape turned whiter than Harry had ever seen him before. "Of all the insanely stupid, idiotic, grossly ill-conceived ideas that damned woman has ever hatched in her amazingly-lucky lifetime..." Snape's voice trailed off as he snatched his wand and launched himself from his desk. He was halfway down the hallway before Harry heard him yell for him.

"Well, Potter, are you planning to tag along or stay behind?"

Harry didn't believe his ears. Without a second thought, he found himself chasing the man who had spent six years making his life a living hell.

They raced down the hallways and corridors, out the front entrance, and down the path where Harry had last seen Desi chase the Malfoys, following footprints in the thin layer of snow that covered the ground. A few feet down they found crimson fabric: Desi's robes.

A moment later, they heard a yell, coming from the direction the footprints led.

* * *

"Lucius." The name hung in the air between the man dragging his only son and the woman who planned to stop him. She stood at the top of a slope, staring down at the two. Draco still fought his father's iron grip on his robes, while Lucius released a cold chuckle.

"Desdemona Dumbledore. I'd heard from my dear son here that you had returned." Lucius spun around casually, never once releasing his hold on his son. "I don't see your esteemed grandfather watching over your shoulder. Pity. I'm sure he'd be proud of you right now, marching along, preparing to fight your little one-woman battle of right over wrong. Quite amusing, really. You know, I was never surprised that you were resorted into Gryffindor. You didn't have the heart to be in the same house as I."

With every contemptuous line, Desi walked closer and closer to the arrogant man until she was face to face with him. "Let Draco go, Lucius."

Another cold chuckle came from Lucius Malfoy, his breath hanging in the cold air. "My dear Desdemona, you have nothing to say about this. He's my son. He'll go with me where I beckon him, whether he likes it or not."

"That's where you're wrong, my dear Lucius." She spat the words back at him in the same icy tone. "Draco here celebrated his birthday yesterday. Which means he is of age. You don't have the right to order him to do so much as tie his shoes. So, I'll repeat myself again. Let. Draco. Go."

Lucius released his grip on his son's clothing, shoving him back hard so he stumbled against a tree. "What business is this of yours, you overly stupid little woman? What makes you think you can meddle in my affairs?"

Desdemona shot daggers at the man. "I'm merely repaying a debt, Lucius. Remember what I promised you that night all those years ago? 'What you have helped to take from me, so shall I help to take from you'. I meant it, Lucius. Draco is not following in your footsteps, and that is final. He's rather live his life as an outcast in his own family than spend his life as a groveling lapdog like the man his father has become."

Lucius raised his wand, aiming it at the woman in front of him. He didn't have the chance to speak a word or make a gesture; a boot came flying at his arm, snapping the wand in half and casting it on the ground below. He stood in amazement and anger as Desi lowered her right leg from the sweeping kick she'd just delivered.

"You know what amazes me the most about you, Lucius. Your hypocracy." She began circling the man, her eyes never leaving him. "Your misplaced ideas about superiority. Here you are, acting as if the world isn't good enough to lick your bootheels, your nose in the air and your cold grey eyes sweeping over everything with a look of disgust on your face while, all along, your tongue has been permanently attached to the bootheels of someone else. Do you honestly want to see your son become like you; merely a pale and unworthy vision of your former self? You used to strut around these grounds, acting as if the world was your plaything, and now look at you. Coming to your master's call like a well-trained dog, always having to think of him before your own desires. You're pathetic."

"You know nothing about the Great Lord and his plans! Draco will become powerful beyond his wildest dreams, and there is nothing you or your bumbling ancient grandfather can say about it!" Lucius snarled at her, the force of his words causing his face to turn red and his eyes to narrow into tiny slits of total hate.

Desdemona smiled coldly. "You don't get it, Lucius. I don't care if Draco becomes powerful beyond his wildest dreams or not. I just care to make sure he doesn't become another lackey for someone as insignificant as Voldemort."

Lucius glared at her. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do to stop me?"

Desi chuckled this time, a chuckle that lacked any depth of humor to it. "This." Without warning, her fist came crashing into Lucius's perfect face with a sickening wet crack. "THAT is for Draco! And that," her foot came flying into his ribcage as he clutched his broken nose, "is for my grandfather! And this," as Lucius dropped his hands to wrap around his abdomen, she delivered a scissor-chop into his throat, "is for Harry!"

Lucius yelled through the blood pooling in his throat. This wasn't the way that wizards handled their duels. They fought with dignity, with wands, with words. His face felt crushed in, his ribcage as if he was wrapped in painful irons. He found himself on his knees in the cold snow in pain, an experience he was unfamiliar with. He yelled again as another kick landed in his stomach, making him wobble back and forth.

"That was for Severus."

* * *

Severus and Harry reached the same hill that Desi had stood on not long ago and came across a sight unimagined. Draco Malfoy stood against a tree, as if entranced from movement, while Desdemona, clad in muggle jeans and sweater, was smashing her boot into the bloodied and disheveled form of Lucius Malfoy.

"_That was for Severus."_

They raced down the hill, robes flying, as she bent down and gathered his hair in her hand, twisting it around her knuckles. "You didn't think I was capable, did you Malfoy? You forgot for a second I had it in me, did you? You forgot that I was placed in Slytherin, didn't you? You forgot about my infamous temper. You forgot that I've spend about twenty years living among Muggles. Amazing people, Lucius. More amazing than you'll ever credit. They taught me it doesn't always take magic to bring a corrupt, worthless, loathsome creature such as yourself to its knees. Sometimes, it just takes the right amount of force."

She raised her fist again, holding his head high. Lucius felt fear go through him as pain shoot through his ribcage, face and leg.

"Finally, Lucius, this is for the girl whose world you helped shatter, and the eighteen year old girl you helped destroy. This is the favor I owe you, Lucius Malfoy." Her arm drew back, and suddenly stopped all forward momentum. In astonishment and confusion, she turned to her right, and found herself staring into ebony eyes.

"Don't, Desi." He said quietly. "It's not worth it. He's not worth it. You don't want to walk this road." Severus' fingers began to carefully pry hers from Malfoy's white-blonde hair. "Trust me, Desi. Nothing in the world is worth that."

As Desi lost her grip on Lucius, he took his chance and began to crawl towards the nearby trees. A pair of legs blocked his path, and he looked up to find himself facing his Lord's greatest enemy. Harry pointed his wand at the wreck of a man crawling before him. "Petrificus Totalus". The wizard went stiff and fell over, unable to move. Lucius Malfoy sufficiently under control, he looked first at Draco, who stared at his father in silent rage, then at the two professors. Snape was holding Desdemona up as she finally noticed the blood on her hands.

"What have I done? What in the name of the founders of have I done?" She stared at her hands, at her clothing speckled with Malfoy's blood. "I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him..." The words became a litany as she sank to the ground in a state of shock, Severus's arms supporting her so she didn't fall.

"Potter, take Malfoy back up to the school, and fetch the Headmaster." He said quietly, his eyes boring into the young man before him. "I have the feeling he will want to take a moonlit stroll."

Harry nodded, taking Draco's arm and pulling him away. Draco stumbled, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the sight before him. Slowly, they made their way up the small hill and towards the castle looming before them.

Desi sat in Severus's arms, rocking back and forth, still softly reciting her shocked realization. Lucius remained stiff as a board on the cold ground. Moonlight shone down upon the spot, and the chilling breeze embraced them all.

When Albus Dumbledore arrived twenty minutes later, nothing had changed.


	6. Chapter Six

Desdemona was in no capacity to speak. Wrapped in blankets and laid to rest on her grandfather's couch for the second time this school year, all traces of blood magically removed from clothing and skin, she drifted in and out of a restless sleep. A phoenix sat on the armrest near her head, guarding her from anyone who would disturb her. The four other figures spoke in near-whispers, seated across the room.

Dumbledore cast his gaze on the three men. "Would someone care to explain what exactly happened this evening?"

The three exchanged looks, green eyes meeting grey in a moment of truce. "Well, sir," Harry began. "I went to the Professor's office this evening to speak with her, and found her upset. She was throwing things and screaming, until she saw Malfoy and his father out the window. She went after them. I didn't know what else to do, so I went and found Professor Snape, who..." The wizard's voice trailed as he looked up at the dark-haired man who kept shifting his gaze from the group to the couch and back.

Dumbledore raised his hand to silence him. "You did the right thing, Harry. I doubt even I could have calmed her down. Once Desdemona loses her temper, it consumes her like poison. She's always had a problem with that. Now, what happened next?"

It was Draco's turn to speak. Uncharacteristically, he sounded contrite and humble. "Sir, it's my fault. I-I've been talking to her all year about my father and the Death Eaters and you-know-who's return. I-I didn't want to follow in his footsteps, sir. I don't want to end up in Azkaban like he did. It changed him. He's not the same. He's not the man I've known my whole life. I don't want to give up my life to serve another. I don't want to follow someone else. I've seen what you-know-who can do; I don't want to die like some of my father's friends. I don't want to crawl on my stomach and beg someone's forgiveness. I don't want to risk being tortured like Professor Snape was. After that day in Potions...well, she promised she'd do what she could to help me."

Dumbledore nodded. "That much I knew, Mr. Malfoy. She'd come to me several times, asking what we could do about it. Unfortunately, since he was your father, we could do little except give you wisdom and guidance. Desi didn't exactly like that answer. I'm afraid tonight wasn't her only, shall we say, impassioned response to the situation. Trust me, Mr. Malfoy, Professor Drecorum used every avenue at her disposal to prevent what happened tonight. Regrettably, laws being what they are, there was little she could do."

Snape glared at his student. "Why, Mr. Malfoy, did you not come to me?"

Draco swallowed hard. "Sir, I didn't know if I could trust you. My father's spent the last two years telling me how backstabbing and manipulative you are. No one is sure which side you're really on; what if you were in my father's pocket? Then he'd know I didn't want to be a...anyway, he would know. And, I wanted an unbiased viewpoint. I mean, well, you have a history with this. I didn't want that. I wanted to talk about this with someone who didn't know me, or my father, or any of that life. Professor Drecorum, she promised to not tell anyone, and she seemed to know what she was talking about. I just wanted someone who wasn't affected by that life."

Snape snorted. "You picked the wrong person, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gave a weak smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes. "I didn't know about her, or you, or the two of you, or...well, I didn't know any of it until tonight. She came after my father and they began arguing. She talked about having been in Slytherin, and then in Gryffindor, and being resorted, and it sounded like she knew him from school or something because it got personal, and then he pulled out his wand to attack her and she...well, she kicked him. And then she snapped or something, because she kept beating him over and over. And then you two arrived, and..."

Now it was Snape's turn to add to the tale. "She was ready to kill Malfoy, Headmaster. It took her a few moments to realize what was going on after I got her to stop. I don't think she even knew what she was doing. I told Potter to take young Malfoy back to the school and to fetch you. The rest, you know."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. Memories of his granddaughter's past resonated through his troubled mind. He'd hoped she would have learned to control her temper by now, but apparently, that wasn't the case. "The rest I know all too well. Madam Pomfrey was able to heal Lucius Malfoy's broken nose and ribs, and he is currently under the care and supervision of Alastor Moody. From what Moody just relayed to me a few moments ago in my fireplace, my granddaughter has managed to do what the Dementors of Azkaban could not. It seems that Lucius has been pouring out details of Lord Voldemort's plans to anyone who would listen. For that, we owe Desdemona's temper a debt of gratitude."

He rose cautiously, glancing at the trio in front of him. He never thought the day would pass when he'd see these three sitting anywhere without hostility filling the air. Once again, he chided himself on the use of the word never. "The three of you are hereby sworn to silence. What happened today can never be mentioned outside of this room. This is as much for your protection, Mr. Malfoy, as it is anything else. I assume you'd prefer it if other members of your house never found out that you'd chosen the path you have?" At a nod, he smiled wanly. "Then I must bid you goodnight. I have much to work on, so I will retire to my office. Please, stay and enjoy the fire as long as you'd like. Severus, if you could make sure Desdemona gets back to her rooms safely. Gentlemen, good night." With that, Dumbledore walked quietly from the room, Fawkes leaving the couch to follow him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure you've had a long and tiring night. Perhaps it's best if you return to your dormitory." Snape suggested, clearly a dismissal of the young man. Draco seemed to agree, and left the room. "As for you, Mr. Potter..."

Harry swallowed hard, completely unsure of what was about to happen next.

Snape's eyes tore away once more from the couch to stare at the wizard before him. "Mr. Potter, for six years you and I have never gotten along. From the moment you walked into this school, I have worked hard to punish you for something that you were never responsible for. In return, you reacted to my animosity and hatred in kind. Some of the loathing I have had for you all these years has been out of orders from Dumbledore; he seemed to think it best that you and I not have a close relationship, and I agreed. However, I have blamed you for your father's actions, and that has been unfair of me."

Snape spent a few precious seconds examining the curtains behind Potter. "I don't want to be your friend, your confidant, or your mentor. I still find you arrogant and disrespectful, as well as rebellious and foolish on occasion. The fact that you rarely can keep control of your temper or treat me with respect has caused animosity of its own doing. However, someone has spent long hours convincing me that I have both misjudged you and underestimated you, and after tonight, I am forced to finally agree." With humbleness Harry never expected, he saw Snape offer him his hand. "I was wrong, Mr. Potter. I hope you can accept that."

Silently, Harry shook the offered hand. "Sir, I owe you a similar apology. I misjudged you as well..."

Snape nodded, cutting off whatever else the student would have said. He didn't want to hear it; let it finally begin to end. "Apology accepted, Potter. Now, I'd suggest returning to your dormitory at once."

As Harry grabbed his wand from the table on his way out, he saw Severus Snape gather up the sleeping professor in his arms and carry her out the door, cradling her as if she were a precious treasure beyond anything that Gringotts had ever possessed in its vaults.

Yet another reminder that the professor was far more human than he'd ever wanted to admit to himself.

Harry hadn't made it further than a few feet before being stopped by Draco Malfoy, who had been hiding in a corner behind a statue. "Don't go acting like this will change anything between us, Potter."

"The thought never crossed my mind, Malfoy."

Draco looked taken aback, as if he'd assumed Potter would expect some sort of friendship or something after that hour in Dumbledore's tower. He didn't want the precious Potter's sympathy or understanding. The fact that his nemesis didn't expect anything to change was a minor shock. The thought was oddly comforting to him. At least something in his life wasn't going to change immediately. With one last glare, he brushed past Potter and stormed off to Slytherin House.

* * *

He felt as if he'd aged a decade in a night. Albus Dumbledore wearily sank into his cushioned office chair, having sent dozens of owls flying across the British countryside, supervised the transfer of Lucius Malfoy to the Order's headquarters for interrogation into Voldemort's plans, and sworn four people into silence and secrecy. Not to mention calming Desdemona out of her near-panicked hysteria and covering up for her. Again.

Busy nights were becoming more than he could handle.

"Something vexes the Headmaster of Hogwarts." A voice trailed from shelves on the wall. An old and familiar voice that Dumbledore had heard once as a young boy, and many times since becoming Headmaster.

"How well you perceive my emotions, old friend, given the fact that I've been frantically scribbling for the better part of an hour."

The Sorting Hat chucked dryly, its mouth appearing on a seam. "You aren't the first Headmaster I've seen in a state of troublement, Dumbledore. Something weighs heavily on your mind. What could it be? Ah, yes, a certain someone's insatiable temper took control of her again, didn't it?"

"Some days, I wonder how you know so much of the world outside these walls when only once a year, you leave your perch."

The Sorting Hat laughed aloud this time, frightening Fawkes. "That is a mystery that Headmasters have been pondering for centuries, Dumbledore. The students know only that I was created by the founders to assist in sorting. How little they know about my true purpose. Even men in power find themselves in need of sage advice now and then."

Dumbledore nodded. "And I, old friend, am in desperate need of your counsel."

The Sorting Hat sat silent for a moment, as if pondering something, then finally began to speak again. "I maintain what I said years ago: 'Between snake and lion the girl's heart rests. Perfectly balanced in deeds and interests'. She is balanced in a way few people ever are, Dumbledore. She is neither fully one nor fully the other. She is cunning and manipulative, but her heart is noble and pure. She will forever be unpredictable; despite her efforts, she will occasionally lose that self-control she clings to. However, she will be fighting for good and for right when she does. It's part and parcel of who she is, and who she will be. You can't change that. Neither can she."

Dumbledore let out a deep breath. "I was hoping you wouldn't say a thing like that."

The sorting hat chuckled once more. "I only see their hearts and their minds. It is you, Headmaster, who see their actions. She carries two strong spirits within her; occasionally they will battle for control, and only one can bear out at a time. It is out of her hands, and is merely something that must be accepted. It is neither good nor bad, right nor wrong. It merely is." The Sorting hat fell silent for a moment, allowing the thought to sink into Dumbledore's swimming subconscious. So many things could he tell the Headmaster, but couldn't. The founders had created him for a purpose greater than simply ensuring the students were sorted by their abilities and inner forces; he also stood by to ensure the smooth and purposeful administering of the school. In times of need, the Hat spoke its piece, but in times of quiet, he fell silent, allowing for the future of Hogwarts to follow its own destiny. That was his purpose in this world, and he fulfilled it all too well. "But more than the actions of your willful granddaughter rests on your mind this night. How may I counsel well the Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

* * *

Auburn hair cascaded down a shoulder and slid on black cloth as Severus carried Desi into her apartment. With a spoken whisper, the door had opened and closed itself again; another whisper brought the dying fire in her hearth back to life. He knew he should tuck her into bed and leave. She'd looked like hell tonight; she needed to sleep.

Instead, he lowered himself into her oversized stuffed chair, still cradling her against his chest. He couldn't bring himself to let her go. Not physically, not symbolically.

The scent of sandalwood hung in the air, wafting from candles everywhere in the room. Desi's favorite scent; she had told him how she'd become addicted to it while living in America because it reminded her of home.

Home. A concept he didn't think he'd ever understand. Until recently.

Desi's breathing was deep and even, finally; no worries or fears creased her face. He wished she could stay this peaceful forever.

He knew that was impossible.

Silently, he damned Voldemort for what he had done. He damned Lucius Malfoy for talking him into it. But most of all, he damned himself for making such an utterly stupid and costly mistake. He hated the Mark more than anything in the world. No matter how far he went to repent for what he'd done, to beg forgiveness from himself, or to escape the memories, the Mark always reminded him.

_Fingertips slid down his arm, circling the mark that was permanently seared into the flesh._

"_Does it hurt?"_

_A deep sigh. "Not on the surface."_

_A solitary tear fell on the mark, causing shivers to move down his spine. Lips touched the same spot, invoking tenderness and a bittersweet chill. _

How had he lived before Desi returned? Before she forgave him?

_Standing alone on a bridge, peering through cracks in the wood, watching an auburn-haired girl trudge through the grounds, clutching books to her chest, her eyes never leaving their gaze towards the dirt. An auburn-haired girl in scarlet and gold; colors she'd never worn before that day. Knowing he was now alone._

_The pain in his arm reminding him he'd never be alone again._

He stroked her hair idly, fingers running through the strands that flickered in the firelight. As his hand brushed the nape of her neck, it met a thin chain. Curious, he pulled until a large pendant came free from her robes. Not a pendant. A slender bottle, small and thin, the stopper possessing a link to run the chain through. A bottle filled with silver-colored liquid.

A bottle filled with the Acupartio potion.

"_I'm putting a stopper in death, Sev." _

His arms instinctively pulled her in closer, clutching her to him.

What a fool he'd been.

Sleep finally overtook him, still in the chair, still holding Desi as if letting her go would stop the sun from ever rising again.

* * *

Desi woke to find arms around her, a heartbeat under her chin, and a chest rising and falling from peaceful sleep. The fire in the hearth was almost out, and there was a definite chill in the air. She wiggled her toes inside boots still laced firmly on her feet. The pale light coming from her east-facing window told her that dawn was breaking.

Slowly, so as not to wake the man who'd held her, she slipped from his hold. Walking from her sitting room, she crept into her bedroom to change clothes. Her hands crawled as she touched the clothing she'd worn last night; even though no bloodstains showed on the denim or wool, she knew they'd been there.

She remembered what she'd done. The memory made her cringe.

An owl tapped on the glass above her bed, waited until she charmed the latch to open, and then sailed in through the open window with a piece of sealed parchment. She petted the bird for a moment before opening the letter from her grandfather. It was uncharacteristically brief and direct. Malfoy was in the custody of the Order. He thanked her for that, chided her softly for her loss of temper, and reminded her he loved her all the same.

It helped ease her conscience. Somewhat.

Finally changed into clean clothing and robes, her auburn hair drawn up and out of her way, she tiptoed over to her chair, where Sev still sat, completely lost in the world of dreamless sleep. He'd saved her, last night. Not from Lucius, but from herself.

From her own temper.

Desi owed him a debt of gratitude. She well-remembered the last time she lost control of the demon that lived in her soul. It had been years since she'd been even remotely tempted to losing her grip on herself, but the memory was sharp in her own mind.

The thought that Lucius would do to his own son, his flesh and blood, that he had done to himself, to Severus, to countless others, had torn at her soul in a way she didn't think possible. The first night Draco came to her, telling her about his intentions and his father's expectations, all she could see in her mind was a tall boy with lanky black hair, standing in front of her, pleading with her for understanding.

She couldn't let history repeat itself. She refused to allow it.

There had to be a way...

Moments later, Desi stole from her apartments after first drawing her curtains and draping a blanket over the man asleep in her favorite chair. She knew she'd fallen asleep in her grandfather's study, and had no memory whatsoever of making her way back to her apartments; which would explain waking up in her chair, curled on Sev's lap. It had been late in the evening when she'd finally given in to Papa's request that she take a calming potion and drifted to sleep, Papa and Severus waiting anxiously to talk without her as a witness. Heaven only knew when Severus had finally fallen into a sleep of his own.

Let him sleep. Her mind, on the other hand, was now racing.

Dust hung thick in the air in this remote section of the library. Books piled high covered tables. Some of the shelves seemed barren. And still, Desi couldn't find what she sought. For hours now, she'd been in the library, until her hands turned grey and her hair felt thick and heavy.

Desi had a plan. Now all she needed was the means.

"Professor Drecorum?" A voice emanated from behind one of the teetering stacks of books. Desi jumped, and Hermione Granger popped her head into sight. "Is everything alright?"

Desi heaved a sigh in relief. Of all the students to come across..."No, it's not. Hermione, I think I need your help."


	7. Chapter Seven

"Mind letting us in on the little secret?" Ron shouted at Hermione's back as she swept from the door to the girls' dormitory and headed out the door to Gryffindor Tower. He and Harry were the only ones in the common room besides the intellectual whirlwind who'd been ignoring them for two weeks straight. "Why the hurry?"

Hermione looked down at her feet, guiltily. "I promised not to tell..."

"Since when did any of us ever keep secrets from each other?" Ron accused, staring her down. Hermione cringed. Harry cringed himself, hiding his face in his suddenly-very-engrossing History of Magic textbook. If Hermione looked as if she'd been keeping things from the two of them and Ron was upset, imagine how he'd feel once he knew what Harry did.

Hermione's eyes swept the room, dropped her bag, grabbed both of them by their robe fronts, and dragged them into a secluded corner.

"Um, Hermione, there's no one here."

"I know, Ron! But someone could walk in at any second." Hermione breathed deeply. "I've been helping Professor Drecorum with some research."

Ron rolled his eyes. "THAT's the big secret?"

"No! But this is. You know that her strong suit is Potions, right?" They nodded. "And right after that is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her weakest area, on the other hand, is Transfiguration. That's what I've been helping her with. She's working on an incredibly complex type of transfiguration, and I've been helping her research how to do it."

Harry had a deep suspicion that this was not going anywhere pleasant. Flashes of memories of conversations raced through his head: conversations with Drecorum after the incident in their Potions class, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters... and the Dark Mark. Struggling to find his voice, he quietly voiced his question. "What kind of transfiguration, exactly, Hermione?"

She bit her lip before telling. "Partial and permanent. She's trying to come up with a way to transfigure one part of an object without having to transfigure the entire thing. Drecorum tried looking up anything potion related, but the closest thing imaginable is the Polyjuice Potion, and she doesn't think there's any way to revise that potion to make it more permanent in nature. Anyway, once she figured that out, and realized that transfiguration was probably the only way to go with this, she asked me to help her look into it. And from the sounds of it, she wants to try it on a human, but she won't tell me. . She just keeps insisting I keep it secret and making it sound like this is highly important. I mean, I'm learning loads of stuff while researching, and it's great practice for my NEWTs, but I just don't understand what the reasoning behind it is."

Harry turned pale and stared at a distant point in the wall. "I think I do." His two friends looked at him in expectation, stunning him into realizing he'd spoken aloud. Swallowing, he faced the two. "If she's really looking into human partial transfiguration, I'm willing to bet she wants to figure out how to transfigure the Dark Mark."

Ron's jaw dropped. "But...but...SHE isn't a former Death Eater. Why would she be worried about that? In fact, the only person who IS a Death Eater and who would need the mark removed would be...Snape. But why would she be so concerned about that? Where did you get such an insane idea as that, Harry?"

On cue, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, some days I wonder how you get through your classes. It's clear she's concerned about him. Don't you remember that day in Potions? She actually hurt Parvati shoving her out of the way to get to him, let alone taking a potion that, from what Harry said Dumbledore said, could have killed her if it didn't work. Personal feelings aside, don't forget that he's a member of the Order, and the only one you-know-who can attack from a distance. She's probably working on it because they need to find a way to counter-act the curse."

Ron still refused steadfastly to accept her line of argument. "But if that were the case, Hermione, why isn't Dumbledore or McGonagall working on it? They're both transfiguration experts. Why hand it off to a Potions professor who can't transfigure her way out of a wet paper bag?"

"I don't know; maybe because it's Dark Arts-related?" She ignored Ron's snort of disbelief. "All I know is she's working on this day and night. She's hardly eating anymore, and some days she sleeps in her office. She's worried it won't work. It's becoming almost an obsession with her. She spent her entire Christmas break working on it, even without me here. She's desperate to find the solution, Ron, so there has to be some reason important enough to make her work this hard to find it."

Harry had kept silent for these moments, instead staring intently at his toes, and the two finally realized it. Staring him down, they made their message clear: talk, and talk now.

Harry gulped. Well, he was finally going to learn how mad Ron would be when he found out he'd been keeping secrets from him. Praying that neither Drecorum nor Snape ever found out he was revealing what he wasn't supposed to know, he finally began to whisper. "I don't think the Order has any idea she's doing this. I doubt even Dumbledore or McGonagall knows. I think she's doing it to save Snape's life."

Ron snorted. "But why would she do that if the Order didn't ask her to? I mean, besides it being the decent and human thing to do and all. I mean, she's saved his life once already, but still..."

Harry fumbled for the words. He couldn't say it; he found himself entirely too embarrassed. He'd have to admit he knew far more than he was willing to let on. Sometimes there were things even friends couldn't share. Instead, he withdrew a worn piece of parchment from his pocket. "Here. Lupin's last letter. It arrived a week ago. Maybe it'll clear things up for you."

Hermione and Ron each grabbed a side and read it together.

"..._so from what I hear, Desdemona Dumbledore and Severus Snape are an item again? I always wondered what happened between them. She used to tag along behind him all the time. Even jinxed your father's broom once right before a match against Ravenclaw because he'd made fun of Snape in Potions class. Then one day, poof! That was the end of that and he became an even more insufferable loner than he'd been before. Imagine my surprise when Moody let that little piece of information drop when Malfoy came to stay with us..."_

Hermione and Ron stared at the parchment in disbelief.

Harry nodded, a sheepish look on his face. "That's why she's working on that transfiguration thing with Hermione. If she can figure out a way to undo the mark, Snape's safe from Voldemort. It's the only explanation that fits."

* * *

"Why are you hiding, Desi?" The familiar voice wafted through the classroom as Desi worked furiously, three different cauldrons bubbling at once. Her auburn hair hung in damp waves, pulled back with a ribbon, her robes hanging off a random chair. Instead of normal wizarding wear, she was once again clad in jeans and t-shirt.

He'd never understand her fixation with Muggle fashion.

"I'm not hiding, Sev. I'm in my classroom. I told you I was busy working on something." Her voice echoed with distraction as she carefully chopped belladonna roots into the tiniest of pieces.

"You know, there is an easier way to do that."

"Yes, I'm well aware. But sometimes doing things with my hands instead of magic is more satisfying, Sev. What do you want?"

Snape was taken aback by the lack of emotion and almost mechanical nature to her words. "To know what you're up to. You've been 'in your classroom' for a week straight from sunup to sundown. That doesn't include the weeks of pouring over books in the library and the insane hours you've been keeping for close to a month now. Hell, Desi, Christmas Day came and went and you still found time to be in the Restricted Section."

"Wasn't aware that you were such an advocate for holidays. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were avoiding the frivolity as much as I was."

Her monotone worried him; she didn't usually have so little emotion or affect in her voice. In fact, she sounded a little like...well, like he did most the time. "When was the last time you've even eaten?" A knife blade pointed toward a tray of half-eaten dinner before returning to the roots. "When was the last time you slept?" Shrugged shoulders. "When was the last time you left this classroom?"

"Half past four, when I had to stop a fight between some Hufflepuffs and Slytherins in the hallway over some stupid bet involving Quidditch."

Well, a verbal answer at last. That was something. More than he'd gotten in a while.

He walked over and took the knife from her hands, trying to get her to look him in the eyes. "Desi, your grandfather's worried about you. Gods above and below, I am worried about you. And I'm not buying the 'I'm behind with my classwork' excuse a second longer. I've taught this class for over fifteen years, and from what I've seen, your potions knowledge actually outstrips me. There's no way you can be behind in your lesson plans. So, for everyone's sanity, will you tell me what you're up to?"

Silently, Desi pulled her wand from her back jean pocket, pointed it at the remainder of the roots and watched them suddenly fell to pieces. She scooped them up and added them to one of the three cauldrons, watching the mixture inside turn into a highly satisfying shade of pink.

Now all she could do was wait.

Too bad it wasn't the kettles she was waiting on right now.

"I'm working, Sev. Is that so hard to believe?" She swept her hand around the room. "I had to replace the potions ingredients I'd destroyed in my little temper tantrum, then I wanted to do some research into some potions for my NEWT students, and now I'm working on some potions for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey asked me..."

"Madam Pomfrey never once asked me to make a potion for her in all the years I've taught at this school. She's more than capable with a cauldron herself. Nice try, but you're a lousy liar, Desi. You always were."

She shot him a look. "Really? Because I remember Professor Septimus looking very convinced when I told him I had no idea who had broken into his office to steal some highly dangerous potions ingredients. And I know that the head of Gryffindor House believed me when I told her I had no clue how their house banner came to be found hanging from one of the windows in the Owlery. And there was that one time when..."

Severus stared down at her, torn between wanting to throttle her for her obstinacy and laughter at how much like her thirteen-year-old self she appeared. "If memory serves me well, YOU were the one who broke into the office because you wanted to work on an invisibility potion because you envied James Potter's cloak, and it was YOUR idea that the Gryffindor banner would look lovely adorned in owl feathers."

She chuckled. "But you helped."

"Stop changing the subject, Desi. What in bloody hell are you working on in here?"

She remembered that tone. That was cranky-Snape, as she used to call it when she was young and desperate to annoy him. Sometimes, when she was particularly mischievous, she pushed just to see how far she could goad him, and this was just like old times. He wasn't happy with her right now. Some people may be hard-put to tell the difference, but she knew the fine line. He rarely swore unless really irate. "Sev, why can't you just let me work in peace? Why so many questions?"

"Because you're hiding something, Desdemona. I know you a little too well to buy your excuse."

"You only knew me for three years, Sev. I grew up in the meantime."

The comment hit him like cold water. She dropped her wand.

She couldn't believe she'd just said it aloud.

Without another word he stormed out of the Potions classroom, leaving Desi to sigh in frustration as she turned to work on the cauldrons before her, stopping one seconds before it boiled over. She'd hated doing that, she hated keeping quiet around him, especially about something that affected him so acutely, but it was the only way to get him out of her hair. If Sev had a clue what she was up to, he'd kill her. Or tell her grandfather. Whichever came to his mind first.

It was why she was in her classroom, brewing potions on a Sunday afternoon. It helped her clear her mind while waiting to hear from her unofficial assistant on the matter.

Gods, she hoped she hadn't hurt his feelings too much. Damn, that was a bitchy and underhanded thing she'd just done. Pointing her wand at her cauldrons and with a whispered 'Evanesco', she vanished her half-finished potions and berated herself for the completely cruel and horrid way she'd handled that moment.

An hour later, Hermione made the cruelty worthwhile.

* * *

The two men stared at the professor and her student. The one in black had to sit down; his legs had gone completely weak. The one in purple merely stared at his granddaughter; the news she'd just delivered was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Student and teacher exchanged contented glances. "Well, that got your attention, Severus." Desdemona smirked, shooting the man a look laced in self-satisfaction.

He simply sat there in stunned silence. He couldn't possibly have heard her correctly. Transfigure the Dark Mark. Into normal flesh? Undo the damage completely? No more pain? No more burning call? No more risk of death or torture?

It threatened to make him happier than he could ever dream possible. Well, besides the person who conjured the fool-headed plan in the first place. "Where did you ever get such a stupid idea in the first damned place?"

Desi didn't look surprised in the least at his reaction. In fact, it was more-or-less what she had expected. "I'm glad to see how thrilled you are, Sev. And to answer your question, I know that Muggles have a similar procedure in their field of medicine. I figured heck, if they can do it, I should be able to modify it. Miss Granger was very helpful in deciphering exactly how to do it, since we all know what a horrible hand I have with transfiguration. I need to remember to have a chat with Minerva about giving her some extra credit in that subject."

Dumbledore stared at the badger before them, its white facial markings having been transformed before his very eyes into black fur. The animal, who still cringed in pain, curled up to hide in the back of the cage rather than the expected aggressive posturing that should normally come from being caged and subjected to magical experimentation. "What about pain charms, Miss Granger? Certainly the poor creature shouldn't suffer like that?" Dumbledore's voice reflected his awe; he still was amazed at what the pair had managed, especially given Desdemona's failings in his preferred area of interest.

Hermione looked at the Headmaster with a twinge of guilt. "That's the only thing we haven't been able to correct, Headmaster. In order for the Mutopriopro spell to work, it has to permanently change the subject. Most transfigurations are temporary when dealing with living things. This is irreversible. The creature has to adapt to the change and the more drastic the change, the more painful it is. You're not simply repairing or adjusting; you're completely changing. We tried a simple pain charm that Madam Pomfrey suggested, and it didn't work. The transfiguration counteracted it. We're not really sure what will work, besides extreme measures such as the Acupartio Potion, and that may not be effective either. We really won't know until we try it on a human."

Desdemona nodded in agreement. "Because of the nature of the Dark Mark, and the fact that it was meant to be a permanent feature, it's likely that the pain from the transfiguration would be far more extreme than what this badger's going through. Hermione's right. We've tried to fix that part, but it seems to be impossible. The body has to accept the transfiguration, and many basic pain charms or spells affects the body's ability to do so; if it doesn't accept the transfiguration, who knows what the effects could be. If we perform a pain charm on the badger, the transfiguration reverses, and his pain ceases." To prove her point, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the cage, murmuring a simple pain charm. The black fur became white again, and the badger's temperament improved dramatically.

Snape pushed down the sensation of shock and fear and instead mustered enough ire to successfully glare at Desi. "When were you planning on letting me in on that little detail?"

Desi glared back. "What, about the fact that pain charms don't work? After you'd agreed to let us try it, you thick-headed git. You and I both know you wouldn't go through with it if you knew you'd likely be laid out for days in pain."

"So what? You were going to just let me writhe in pain? For days? Without any forewarning? You're more insane than I thought!"

"No. I had that base covered."

That response came just a little too quickly and calmly for his taste. "Don't even think about trying your little potion trick this time, Desdemona Drecorum." He rose to his feet to tower over her, trying to drive more meaning into his words. He planned to get through to her one way or the other; she did it once, he wasn't about to let her try something that stupid again.

Seeing him rise to his feet put her instantly on-guard. Desi wasn't about the let him bully her into any decision, and especially not this one. The price was too high. "Don't you tell me what to do, Severus Snape. I'll try any 'little potion trick' I choose, and you can drop dead if you don't like it!"

He roared at her. "If you use the damned potion and I drop dead, chances are you drop dead with me!"

She rose to his challenge, roaring right back, her bright blue eyes boring into his black ones. "I'd rather be dead than deal with your stubborn arrogance and overly-protective side any day! You forget, it's MY choice, not yours, and you can't take that from me!"

Albus Dumbledore gently took Hermione's arm and led her from the room. She went without a word, her eyes wide in total shock. Once out in the hallway, he released her. "I think they wouldn't approve of us eavesdropping on their little conversation, Miss Granger. Besides, I have a feeling this is less about the transfiguration spell than they'd like us to believe. Now, let's leave them to their discussion and you can tell me more about how you found the trick to this amazing piece of wizardry." With a smile and a gleam in his eye, he offered her a cup of tea in his office.

Neither of them noticed their absence.

"Why is it always about YOUR choice?"

"Because, you idiot, it was YOUR choice that got us in this mess in the first damned place!"

Severus ran both hands through his black hair rather than wrapping them around her shoulders and shaking sense into the obstinate woman. "So why can't you see that I should be the one to pay the price, Desi? Unless the transfiguration kills me, what does it matter?"

Desi wanted to hit him. Hard. Maybe something blunt thwacking him upside his head would finally knock sense into his overly-thick skull. "Because why should I let you thrash about in pain when I can stop it?"

"Because, you twit, I don't want the woman I love to have to hurt because of something that I caused!"

Desi stopped breathing, all desire or ability to continue screaming gone. "Wha-What did you say?"

Severus took three shaky steps to where Desi stood, frozen in place, and slid his hand down one cheek to cup her chin, bringing her eyes in line with his. His words came out in a soft whisper. "I said I don't want the woman I love to have to hurt. Not for my faults. Not for my mistakes. Not ever, Desi. You've felt too much pain because of me as it is."

She could barely speak. "You...you love me?"

The kiss he gave her left no more room for doubt.

* * *

She crept from the bed and the dark room, managing not to disturb the man sleeping beside her. Wrapping a spare blanket around her, Desi wandered to her sitting room and folded herself onto the couch. Her mind had been racing for hours, and sleep wasn't going to come to her. Sitting in the dark and clutching a pillow, she wiggled her toes and smiled.

He'd said he loved her.

"_Why do you keep harassing me, Desi? Can't you see I want to be alone?"_

"_I don't want you to be alone, Sev. You've been alone too long."_

_The young face glaring at her through strands of black hair. "Why do you care so much about what's best for me?"_

"_Because I love you, you dunce."_

_Silence._

"_You don't love me, Desi. No one loves me."_

"_Yes, I do. Don't tell me what I do and don't feel, Sev. It won't work."_

_Anger boiling over in his voice. "Listen to me, Desdemona Dumbledore. You don't love me. You just think you do. Love isn't real. It's some stupid word people created to excuse their weakness and their lack of common sense."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_You'll grow up soon enough, Desi. Then you'll see. Someday someone will hurt you too, and you'll finally realize I'm right." He stormed off, leaving the young girl behind._

_A rustling in bushes behind her. "What do you see in him, Des?"_

_A chuckle. "The same thing my grandfather sees in you, Remus Lupin. Hope and potential. How long were you planning on spying on us?"_

"_I wasn't spying. I skived off from divination and was taking a nap when you two began your little bicker-fest." Remus's voice drew quiet. "He has no idea we're friends, does he?" She shook her head. "Thought so. Des, I don't want to see your heart broken. You're young. Go fawn after someone who deserves your attention. Don't keep chasing after someone who's just going to throw it away."_

_Desi stared at her friend through unshed tears. "It's not that simple, Remus. I can't change how I feel any more than you can change your own little problem."_

"_For your sake, I hope he finally sees the light, Des."_

Desi sat in the dark for hours, replaying memory after memory in her mind. Someone had hurt her, more than she'd thought possible. But she still believed in love. Her parents had loved her. Her grandfather did love her. It was real, no matter what a seventeen-year-old Severus Snape had tried to tell her. She had never let go of that.

Even when she had let go of him.

He'd said he loved her. That thought echoed in her mind as she finally let herself sink into sleep's arms.

In the other room, dreams haunted a sleeping man.

"_Look, it's Snivellus without his little shadow. Where's your little girlfriend, Snapey?" Sirius Black and James Potter snickered from a doorway as he trudged from transfiguration class. _

_Remus Lupin stared at both of his friends. "Leave it, you two."_

_Sirius gaped at his friend. "What's it to you, Moony? No, seriously Severus, what is it with you and your little girlfriend? Does Dumbledore know his little pride and joy follows you around like a puppy? What does she see in you anyway?"_

_James laughed. "Maybe she likes charity cases. You can't get much more pathetic than Snivellus here."_

_Remus glared at them both. "I said leave it, damn it." He stormed off, leaving the two alone with their favorite object of torture. _

"_One day, Snapey, she'll wise up to what a loser you are. She'll stop following you around and keeping you company. Then you'll be all alone again. She won't be around forever. You don't deserve a little shadow like her, and you know it." With that premonition, Black and Potter sauntered off._

_Anger burned in his chest. _

_They were right._

_He made his way to the common room of Slytherin, hoping to sneak into his dormitory and hide. He wasn't that lucky. _

"_Severus, just the person I was looking for." Lucius Malfoy stepped from behind a chair to speak with the young man that had just walked into his path._

He shot awake, gasping for air in the still and darkness. The memory felt as sharp and real as it had the very day the words were spoken, and genuine anger poured through him, waking him completely. Blindly, Severus reached over to where she'd been, but his hand only touched empty pillow. Panic in his heart, he flew from the bedroom only to find her curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest, apparently asleep.

Kneeling on the floor beside the worn couch, Severus reached up to smooth back the curtain of hair that covered her cheek. They'd been right, Black and Potter. He didn't deserve her. He wasn't worthy of someone caring whether or not he lived or died, let alone if he was in pain or comfort. He'd had his chance twenty-five years ago, and he'd thrown it away. He didn't deserve a second chance to have her in his life. He'd tried telling Desi that same thing hours before.

Her response had been to tell him to shut up before she hexed him.

The dream still fresh in his mind, he made himself two promises. The first was that he'd never do anything to hurt Desi again. The other one was to keep that memory secret from her for the rest of his life.

He'd never told her what James and Sirius had said that day to convince him to do what he did. She didn't need that weight on her conscience. She never needed to know that he'd become a Death Eater because someone told him he didn't deserve her love.


	8. Chapter Eight

"When in the hell were you planning to tell me?"

Severus woke up on the floor, stretched out alongside a couch, listening to Desi's thunderous shouting. The woman had no concept of volume control, did she? He opened his eyes slowly, only to find her facing her fireplace, spewing her temper on the floating head of Remus Lupin, of all people. "When? How? Is he...?"

"He's still alive, Des. You don't need to yell. Yesterday he just began screaming and passed out. None of us were in there at the time; we heard him scream, then there was silence, and when we looked in, he was unconscious. Tonks thought he was faking it until Moody reminded her of Snape's episode a while back. Looks like the love of your life isn't the only one you-know-who's pissed at these days, hun."

"It's VOLDEMORT, you moron!" Desi screeched at the head in the fireplace. "And since when is my love life common knowledge amongst the Order?"

Lupin laughed. "Your grandfather let it slip to me a few weeks ago when he was down for the last meeting. Seemed he thought I'd like to know things turned out alright in the end; wonder where he got the idea I'd be interested. Don't worry; it's not as common of knowledge as it sounds; I think I'm the only one who knows for sure, although Moody suspected it when he picked Malfoy up from you. As to when we were going to tell you about Sleeping Ugly over here, we didn't think about it until a few minutes ago. Since I knew you'd probably concoct a way to permanently keep the full moon in the sky if I didn't tell you immediately, I thought I'd see if you were near the fireplace."

Desi exhaled deeply. This really threw a wrench in her plans; on the other hand, it opened some doors for her. Damn. Why today? She had double-Potions to teach. "I'll be over there as soon as I can. I have the feeling that dear Alastor hasn't gotten everything out of that lowlife yet. Besides, dear Lucius is very temperamental when it comes to sharing his wisdom. This may need a woman's delicate touch."

Lupin snorted. "If what you did is delicate, Des, I'd hate to see painful. I'll see you when you get here. It'll be nice to see you again. It's been a few years."

Her expression grew wistful. "I know, Remus. I've missed you too. Now go back and reassure the Weasleys their son won't fail his classes like I know they do, and get back to work."

The head disappeared with a pop.

Severus struggled to get up into a sitting position. "What the hell's going on? Why are you going to the Order? And how do you and Lupin know each other so well?" Accusation and scorn dripped from his words.

Without turning her head, she knew this wasn't going to be a good conversation. One hell of a way for him to find out her best friend was one of the people on the planet he hated passionately. No, not good.

"Well, good morning to you too, darling." She turned to face him, staring across the room straight into his narrowed black eyes. "I'm going to the Order because it appears that Voldemort used the Caderminus Curse on Malfoy yesterday. And he barely survived it." She heard him suck in his breath. "So, I need to go and question him about the mark. Since you've been out of the circle for a while, Voldemort may have dropped a little more wisdom into his lackeys' laps.

"And as to the other question," she braced herself, "I've been friends with Remus Lupin since school. Papa suggested I go to him for help in transfiguration class, since I'm so retched with that subject, and after a few years of tutoring, we were close friends. Later, he came to stay for a while when I was in America before coming to teach here. Seems werewolves aren't always welcome wherever they go, and someone needed to make the wolfsbane potion for him on a regular basis." His eyes glazed over like black ice; she could see them from twenty feet away. Yeah, not good. "There never was anything more between us than that, Sev. He's a friend, and the closest thing to a sibling I ever had. So you can do both of us a favor and back down from the jealous tone you were about to take and just calm your ass down, because I will not tolerate the two of you picking at each other in front of me."

Desi rose from her knees where she'd knelt talking to her old friend in the flames, and walked towards her bedroom to change before she reconsidered her decision. She didn't think the Order would appreciate her showing up in her present attire, although it might finally make Moody blush. The mental image made her smile wickedly.

She left Severus on the floor beside the couch alone to ponder her words, where he'd fallen asleep after evidently wandering out to look for her. Waking up to find him curled on the floor next to her had been oddly touching, until she realized that the sound that had woken her up had been Remus Lupin's voice calling for her. Then the mental voice that spoke to her from time to time began raining obscenities at her. Seconds after that, she began praying that Sev slept through their conversation.

Obviously, the gods hadn't heard them.

She sauntered out a few minutes later in jeans and a sweater, and grinned as she watched his face curl in disgust at the outfit. "I like Muggle clothes, and that's not changing anytime soon so you can learn to cope. Besides, what does it matter to you what I wear under robes?"

He ignored the comment about her attire. "You're not going alone." The almost-petulant tone he took with her amused Desi to no end, but she bit back the amused laugh that desperately wanted to slip out.

"Then get dressed, silly. I'm leaving as soon as I get something to eat." She bent down and laid a kiss on Severus' lips before walking toward her door. "I'm going to fetch something from the kitchens. The house-elves still love me, so it's open season on meals. Want anything in particular?"

* * *

The pair dusted themselves off as they stepped through the fire and into the front Hall of the Order headquarters. Facing them were Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin; the former looked dark and brooding, the latter looked chipper and well-rested. It was the chipper one who then grabbed Desi in a bear hug, swung her around, and kissed her cheek. "Damn, Des, when you said you were getting here soon, I didn't think it would be in less than an hour."

Desi smiled at her best friend and drew him in for a more relaxed hug. It felt like years since the last time they'd been in a room together. Just knowing she had a friend nearby again made her calmer; yes, she had Sev behind her, but she couldn't count on him being calm and rational and, judging by the death glare she caught from the corner of her eye, civil. "You look a sight better than the last time I saw you. Of course, the last time I saw you, you were scratching for fleas and howling. I think I like you better like this."

"I hope you do. You yelled at me to quit shedding all over your furniture then!"

The banter likely would have continued for another hour, but a less-than-discrete cough behind her reminded her she wasn't here for a social visit. Yeah, civility wasn't going to be one of Sev's strengths today, was it? With a resigned groan, she turned to Moody, all signs of her relaxed posture gone. "Alright, where is our dear guest of honor?"

"This way, Ms. Dumbledore." As Moody directed Desi out of the front hall and towards the room they were using to house Malfoy, Lupin stopped Snape from following her. "I think you and I may need to have a bit of a chat, Severus."

Snape leered at him. "I doubt you and I have much to say to each other, Lupin."

Lupin sighed, pulled out a wand, and cast an Imperturbable spell on the room. "Well then, fine. You don't need to talk. Just listen. I know that you and Des have rekindled whatever was going on with you back at school, and frankly, although I wonder about the logic of it and whether or not she's thinking clearly, I am actually thrilled for you both. She's been my little Des since her first year at Hogwarts, and the years haven't changed that in the least. I'm the closest thing she's had to a big brother her whole life, and that relationship continues to this very minute. She's been a little sister to me for years, and while I don't think you deserve her, I know she gave her heart to you years ago. As much as I may not like it, I accept it."

Snape glowered at the werewolf before him, who stood his ground and returned the cold stare and continued unabated. "I know you didn't know then that we were friends because Des was hell-bent on keeping that from you back then for whatever reason. And from the look on your face, you didn't know about our friendship until very recently. We're friends, Severus, nothing more, so you can stop looking at me as if you want to rip me apart limb by limb. I just wanted to make that clear to you, since that look you shot me a moment ago wasn't exactly the warm and friendly Severus Snape I know."

"So what? I'm supposed to be good buddies with you now just because Desi had the misfortune to make friends with you years ago?"

His attempt at a joke failed miserably. He hadn't expected it to do anything else. Snape's sense of humor had always seemed lacking. "No. But you should probably tone down the open animosity, since I know all it'll do is put more stress on Des than she needs right now. So, as her honorary big brother, I'm asking for a cease fire between the two of us, at least as long as she's around either of us. It's clear we both care about her, and knowing Des, she's not going to step into the middle of our feud, no matter how much it tears her apart. So, do you think the two of us are mature enough to keep the hate down to a minimum? For her sake?" Waiting for disagreement, Remus was shocked when the man before him actually deigned to nod his head slightly.

Well, hell truly could freeze over, after all.

Remus didn't bother holding out his hand; he knew Snape well enough to know he wouldn't take it. "And as her honorary big brother, just let me say this last thing, Severus. Treat her well. Treat her very well. Because, if you don't and I find out about it, the first chance I get I'll bite you under a full moon. Do I make myself clear?"

Snape continued to glare at the man. "I've never liked you, Lupin..."

"Well, that makes two of us, Severus. But for the record, I tried to get Sirius and James to leave you alone that last year or so in school. Now you know why. Think on that the next time you want to give me the evil eye." Lupin took the spell off the room and held the door open. "Shall we?"

* * *

Moody led Desi silently through dark hallways and minimal lighting until they finally reached one door, set off from the others in the walkway, which possessed more locks on it, magical and non-magical alike, that she'd ever seen. After they'd all finally been undone, a process which took far too long in Desi's mind, she stepped inside and found Lucius Malfoy huddled in a corner behind a bed. All trace of the cold, calculating, polished man was gone; instead, he was a frightened, skittish thing with eyes wide as saucers and shaking hands. Desi gaped at him in complete disbelief.

Moody grunted. "I thought Remus told you how bad-off he was. Bloke's been like this ever since he woke up. There's nothing wrong with him we can fix; tried all the healing charms and what-have you. Your grandfather even looked at him; couldn't see anything he could do." He then quietly assumed a position in the corner. "Constant vigilance, Ms. Dumbledore. As always."

Desi swallowed hard. She'd been prepared for anger, ire, accusation, fear, even pleading; not for this simpering animal curled in on himself. What in hell had happened? "Lucius? I need to talk to you."

Malfoy jerked as if startled. "He's coming for me...he knows they captured me...he'll kill me soon..."

Desi knelt down by him, trying to get him to look her in the eye. "It doesn't have to be that way. There may be a way to stop that. But if you want to live, I need your help."

There was nothing sane in his eyes. Grey pools of emotion looked through her, as if she were made of glass. "No way to stop him...he'll have his way..."

This wasn't exactly making Desdemona's day. Somehow she needed to snap him out of himself; give him something else to focus his mind on instead of his fear. "You tried everything? Every sanity charm and healing spell?" At Moody's nod, and with an annoyed look on her face, she conjured up a bucket of ice water. "Well, let's see if this does the trick." Moody stood back and watched, confused, as she picked it up and heaved the water all over Malfoy, who began sputtering, shaking, and screaming obscenities at Desi's head. In return, she smiled as the formerly-mad Death Eater came back to reality.

"When magic fails, turn to Muggles to solve your problems, Moody. Well then, since it looks like Mr. Malfoy's regained his sanity for the moment, perhaps he'd like to talk to us?" With his hair hanging in a wet curtain over his irate face and chiseled features, he shot her a look that could have frozen the water that dripped from him. She knelt before him, her blue eyes equally chilled, her jaw set in determination. "Tell me everything you know about the Dark Mark and the Caderminus Curse."

An hour later, she had gotten all the information on the mark and curse that she needed. Moody had gotten all the intelligence he'd been expecting and more. Evidently the water did the trick; Malfoy had the presence of mind to bargain his knowledge, and had gotten a promise from Desi. In exchange for his telling her everything he knew she'd perform the Mutopriopro spell on him as well, so at least Voldemort couldn't torture him further, or finally kill him.

Desi had also gotten more than she'd bargained for; seething with anger, she was ready to go back on her promise. What the Dementors did to him was out of her hands. But now knowing she had a living, breathing test subject for the Mutopriopro spell made her feel somewhat better. At least this way, if something went wrong it wouldn't happen to Sev.

Knowing the pain he'd go through to be that test subject took the edge off her anger. Only the edge. Inside the sanctity of her mind, she calmed the beast that was her ire, willing herself to not lose her self-control again.

* * *

Moody escorted her out, locked the room again, and led her down the same dark hallways to the fireplace she'd used to get there. Where she'd left Severus and Remus, other figures surrounded the fire: Arthur Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, and a not-exactly-happy-to-see-her Albus Dumbledore, who looked as if he'd just arrived as well.

"The next time, Desdemona, that you decide to enjoy a cozy day by the fire instead of showing up to teach your class, I'd appreciate a little warning. As it is, the students were elated to find their double Potions class had been inexplicably cancelled." Desi turned red at her grandfather's admonishment and suddenly discovered how riveting her boots really were. "And as for you, Severus, you've been a professor long enough that I shouldn't have to reprimand you. As it was, the only way I discovered your whereabouts was due in thanks to a rather curious and outgoing house-elf, who overheard your plans when he brought a tray of food for the two of you to Desdemona's apartments. He seemed to think that the professors should not have been neglecting their students, as he is overly-fond of a particular student you both teach. So not only did I discover the two of you had left Hogwarts without permission, but I find myself minus a pair of my favorite socks." Dumbledore finished his lecture by accosting the most comfortable chair by the fire. "That being said, I assume the lecture pales in comparison to what you would like to share."

Everyone sat in different chairs, except for Snape, who preferred standing in the corner where he could keep a sharp eye on both the circle of people around the fire and the doorway behind them. Tonks conjured up a tea service and began offering cups of warm liquid to the group, only dropping a pair of them in the process.

Desi took a deep breath. Getting her emotions in check, she began to inform the rest of the group what she'd learned upstairs. "I think it does. First of all, Malfoy was able to offer explanations as to the workings of the Caderminus curse and the Dark Mark that we didn't know before. First of all, the mark is a two-way street." Seeing confusion sweep across the room at the use of a Muggle-metaphor, she rolled her eyes. It was hard for her to stop using twenty-odd years of Muggle social constructs. "It works in both directions. Just as Voldemort can affect his Death Eaters through the mark, so too does it affect him. That's part of the reason why he hasn't gone after Severus again. After the first time didn't kill him, he knew he'd have to put more effort into the curse. However, using the curse weakened Voldemort. It wasn't to the same degree as its effects on Sev, but it drained him. Malfoy said it took him a week to regain all of his strength after trying to kill him. If that's true, he's holed up somewhere going through that experience again after trying to kill Malfoy. We're not likely to hear from him for a few days at least."

"So, he curses his target, but it affects him?" Arthur was completely lost.

"Sort of. The mark connects the Death Eaters to him, so whatever affects them will also affect him. That's how he was so sure, when he returned, which of the Death Eaters had betrayed him and which hadn't. It helps him keep control over who is loyal and who isn't. Because he's causing extreme pain and torment, he's going to experience some of that himself. From what Malfoy said, it was a side-effect he didn't anticipate at first." A cold chill shot through Desi at the memory of the curse's effects, even though she was closest to the fire. "The way that Malfoy described the process of receiving the Mark sounds similar to the Mutopriopro transfiguration, which given Voldemort's talents in that subject area, shouldn't be a surprise. He intended for the Mark to be permanent. This is going to make undoing it complicated."

"But not impossible?" A voice muttered from the shadows.

Desi stared into the corner, not quite able to see the man standing there. She really needed to talk to him about the all-black-attire thing. Color, just once in a while, was a wonderful thing. Not something garish, like turquoise, but something less stark. Pushing the ridiculous fleeting thought out of her mind, she replied in a low tone. "No, Sev, not impossible."

The hiss of a held breath escaping echoed off the walls in the silent room.

"As for Voldemort's plans, I didn't understand what Malfoy was saying, but Moody seemed to follow it all. He should explain." Still shivering, Desi rubbed her arms while Alastor Moody began laying out for the members that surrounded the fire the basic structure of Voldemort's strategy. From Malfoy, they learned who within the Ministry of Magic's legal council persuaded the court to release some members of the Death Eaters for the time being, as well as his current hideaway, tucked away on a little island in the Baltic Sea. Details about strikes and gatherings, plans and spying, all seemed to grasp the attention of everyone else in the room.

Desi only paid interest intermittently, her thoughts on the work that lay before her, staring into the fire as if answers would come. She'd come to Hogwarts to teach a class, a simple little one-year class. She did not plan to rekindle a dead romance and discover the secret for undoing a complicated piece of Dark Art work. She was supposed to encourage students from following Voldemort and to work with the Order in preventing his return from being as catastrophic as his first call to power, not get caught up in the conflict herself.

And she sure as hell didn't come back here to be reminded of events she tried daily to forget.

She thought the past was behind her. She thought she'd finally closed the door on that memory. She thought she could finally move on. With one comment, Lucius Malfoy had proven her wrong.

How was it she found herself following a different path than the one she'd begun walking?

With a start, she realized that the meeting seemed to be over. Arthur was waiting to shake her hand in gratitude for coaxing Malfoy to say his piece, and to give her Molly's love, which she'd sent in absentia. Tonks was busy looking for her wand, which she'd just been twirling absent-mindedly for an hour but had misplaced within seconds. Her grandfather was leaving the room with Moody, most likely to begin working on some strategy or another on how to use this information to the best of their ability.

Lupin and Snape watched her from opposite ends of the room, anticipating her next move. Shivering for yet another moment, she rose from the comfortable chair and stretched. "Well, I should pay Malfoy another visit, shouldn't I?"

Remus seemed to look through her, as if measuring her in some way. "Des, this doesn't have to happen today. You can come back another time. Or I could take care of this for you, if you're tired or unsure..."

Auburn hair flew as she shook her head emphatically. "No, Remus. This hasn't been an easy spell to master, and gifted with transfiguration you are, it's my responsibility, not yours. Let's get this over with. If it works on Malfoy, I don't want to waste another moment. Besides, I'm already here, so there's no point in squandering time on a return trip." With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her face with her hands, smoothed her hair and robes, and headed out the door, leaving both men to follow in her wake.

This time it was Lupin who was kind enough to unlatch the door and lead her inside. Lucius Malfoy sat in a corner, still damp from the unexpected bath Desi had bestowed upon him. "Are you ready?" The words came out in a tone laced with loathing and deep contempt, shocking both men behind her and causing them to exchange looks of concern. Malfoy nodded at the petite woman in front of him, wisely keeping his tongue safely behind his teeth after taking one look at his former protégé and the werewolf who'd helped keep him captive. At a nod from her, he rolled up his sleeves, exposing the Dark Mark for the three of them to see. With a huge inhalation and a prayer on her lips, she tapped Malfoy's upper left arm three times before uttering a single word.

"Mutopriopro."

White light poured from the wand, centering itself on the site Desi had tapped. Malfoy screamed in agony and collapsed on the floor, and the sound of tearing rang through the room between the cries, as if someone was pulling a stitch in fabric. Finally, the screams ceased and the white light faded. The room was silent. Malfoy was unconscious, his hair spilling all around him.

Desi couldn't bring herself to move. Instead, she stood in one place, shaking, her wand eventually slipping from her hands to clatter on the stone floor. It fell to Lupin to step around her and over Lucius Malfoy's prostrate body to pull his arm free from under him.

The Mark was gone.

"It...it...it worked." Desi still swayed on her feet in surprise, Severus stepping right behind her with a similar look blanching color from his already-pale features. "It worked."

Lupin checked Malfoy's pulse. "He's still alive. Any idea how long he'll be unconscious, Des?" At her head shaking in denial, he whistled through his teeth. "Damn. Well, we can't leave him like this." A wave of the wand levitated Malfoy onto the bed, with another conjuring rope to secure him in case he tried to escape. "I'll send someone up later to make sure he's still alive. How sure are you that healing charms don't work?"

"Very sure. It'll just undo the spell. The body has to accept the new transfigured flesh. Healing charms will only prevent that from happening." Desi had finally stopped swaying and was regaining composure. "With some things, magic is more harmful than helpful. Sometimes, things need to take their own course."

Remus swooped down, retrieved her wand, and presented it to her. "Well, I assume you two are going to want to get back to the school and try this little trick a second time. I won't keep you."

Her words were as resolute as stone or steel. "We're not trying this little trick again for a while."

Both men jerked their heads to gape at the woman. "What?" The near-whisper tore through the room like a shout, as Severus's eyes grew small and cold. "What did you just say?"

Desi's blue eyes burned like flames. "Until Lucius Malfoy wakes up, and I know damned good and well this worked, I will not be risking your life. You've born that repulsive mark for twenty-five years; you can bear it a few days longer."

"Who in the hell do you think you are to decide what risk I will or will not take? You arrogant, stubborn, determined, self-righteous..."

A click from behind them stopped Severus's rant. Remus Lupin looked knowingly at the pair, his eyes trained right on the man, his teeth bared, and an amused gleam in his eyes. Severus stopped ranting and, in a silent rage, stormed from the room.

"What did I miss just then?"

Remus laughed. "Nothing, Des. Nothing at all."

She stared at the man who'd been like a brother to her for most of her life. "Why do I have a hard time believing you?"

"Simple. You're part-Slytherin. They wouldn't trust someone who'd just taken veritaserum!" Finding Snape pacing outside the door, Remus led the pair from the room where Lucius Malfoy slept, unconscious, back to the foyer where they'd first arrived.

"You'll contact me as soon as he's conscious? And if anything happens?" Desi asked for the tenth time in the short trip back to the fireplace.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, Des. Regardless of what hour of the night, I will pop into your fireplace to deliver this ever-so-important message." A warning glance from familiar blue eyes made him chuckle. "Well, not any hour." She cuffed him.

He bestowed a last kiss on the cheek to Desi, and then turned and, in an inexplicable and almost inaudible whisper, said to Severus, "twelve days, fourteen hours, twenty-six minutes..." With a final snap of his jaw to the glowering man and a wink and a smile to Desi, Lupin said goodbye to the pair as they climbed into the fireplace to return to Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter Nine

"It's still my choice."

"Quit pouting, Sev."

Severus blew strands of black hair from his eyes as he dusted off his black robes. "I am not pouting."

The banter stopped with a knock at the door. Desi walked over and wrenched the door open, only to face Minerva McGonagall, who looked, of all things, slightly embarrassed to be standing there. "Desdemona, I'm looking for Severus. There's a situation in his House that needs his..." Her eyes widened for a moment when seeing him step around the door to face her, only to be replaced by a guilty shift in expression. "Well, yes, Severus, as I was saying, there's a situation in Slytherin House. Evidently, some of your students have been spending their afternoon bullying some of the younger students, and..."

Snape's face resumed its normal everyday expression of loathing and irritation. "I assume they've waiting for me?"

McGonagall nodded. "They're in your office."

He looked to Desi, his black eyes showing clearly the displeasure his students were about to face. As he looked her over, some of the ire melted into concern. She looked worn out, and she hadn't been her normal self since the briefing. "Are you...?"

Desi waved him off. "I'm fine. Really, Sev. Go. I need a nap anyway. Thank the founders he didn't make me the head of any of the houses. I doubt I'd be as popular as I am." At his hesitant look back over his shoulder at the woman in the doorway, Desi pushed him in the direction on the hallway. "Go take care of your students. I'll be fine."

She stood in the doorway, watching Severus storm down the hallway with McGonagall, until they'd rounded the corner. Only then did she sigh, allowing herself to sag against the doorframe for a minute until she finally got up enough energy to close the door and stumble to her bedroom. Yanking off her robes and kicking her feet out of her boots, she let herself fall into the sheets, clutching a pillow to her and closing her eyes.

Damn that man.

"_Why such sudden concern about the Dark Mark?" The silken voice drawled from where he sat in sodden robes, as if he'd suddenly gained some upper hand in their discussion. "After almost thirty years, suddenly the granddaughter of the Headmaster of Hogwarts wants me to tell her everything there is to know about the Mark and the curse that goes with it. I have to wonder why."_

"_Call it academic curiosity, Malfoy." Her voice dropped low and cold. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."_

"_You have no idea what kind of person you're trying to save, Desdemona." The comment stopped her mid-step. "He's not the schoolboy you so foolishly followed around like a puppy all those years ago. You weren't beside him like I was. You didn't see the thrill in his eyes when we were out doing our master's bidding. You didn't see the joy on his face when causing pain to someone else. You have no idea, do you, about what kind of man he became."_

_The thought sent shivers down her spine. White-hot anger poured through her as she whipped around past Moody and grabbed Malfoy's robe fronts, yanking him close enough for her to stare into his deep grey eyes. "I know what kind of man he is today. I know what he did then. And I know it pales in comparison with the things you did. How many victims, Lucius? How many families did you help destroy? You dare to try to tell me what kind of man he was then? I know. I know all too well. I've seen the memories that haunt him at night. What about you? Does the memory of screaming people and flashes of light keep you awake at all hours? Or is it only the knowledge that your precious lord and master will punish you for letting a weak little woman like me take you prisoner?" She shoved Malfoy away from her as she felt Moody take her shoulder to pull her away. _

_As she went to leave again, she spun around one more time. "He isn't the only one of the two of us to do evil, Lucius. Maybe you've forgotten that. And I didn't need a mark on my arm or someone to answer to in order to do it."_

The bastard. Why did he have to remind her about what she'd done?

Footsteps brought her back from her moment of self-hatred, and she turned her head to stare into blue eyes as familiar as her own. Her grandfather stood in her bedroom, dusting his robes off before settling himself on the bed next to her.

"As I was leaving, Alastor suggested you may need someone to talk to. Evidently, Mr. Malfoy reminded you of something that seemed to upset you. He had a strong suspicion what that was about. So, of course, I chose to take a little detour to my office. Nothing is so important, Desdemona, that I can't come to comfort my granddaughter."

The kind words, the look of empathic understanding, the invitation to unload her emotional load tore through her. The wave of guilt she was reliving spilled from her, and she began to weep.

Her grandfather's response was to draw her in closely. How he'd longed for years to simply hold his little one like this, to comfort her, to draw the pain from her. Yet another lifelong regret.

"Desdemona, it wasn't your fault."

The lie hit her like cold water, and she jerked her out of her grandfather's arms like a shot. "What? Not my fault? You were there, Papa! I stood in a pile of rubble ten feet around, laughing at his dead body!" She began to storm around her room, arms flying wildly for emphasis. "I lost control of my temper, and instead of simply walking away or handling the situation maturely, I killed a man!"

"Desdemona, you were all of eighteen..."

"And already a murderer!"

"...he was a follower of Voldemort!"

"And that gave me license to do what I did?"

"He threatened your life."

"That excuses what I did?"

"No one blamed you, Desi."

"Oh, thanks Papa. That gives me real comfort. It makes me feel infinitely better to know that the Ministry and the Order and all those witnesses don't blame me for taking a life. Well, I blame me, Papa! Some nights I can't sleep because all I hear is my voice, cackling insanely in the night! I remember the anger and the rage and the burning in my blood and a crack of light and an explosion, and I have to live the rest of my life knowing that I did that! I killed a man, in cold blood, and no amount of you risking your reputation that night to make it sound like self-defense or justifiable actions will ever change that!"

Dumbledore rose. At her calm moments, Desdemona reminded him so much of Tobias it made his heart wrench. His only son. His only child. He'd been so proud of Tobias his whole life.

He'd been all he had left of Aurora.

When she was calm, when she had a smile on her lips and a laugh in her throat, she was her father's child without question. The features may have been softer and more feminine, but she was so like Tobias it took his breath away.

Except when she was angry. When she was enraged, emotional, screaming and writhing, she completely took her mother's personality to a whole new level. Cassandra Drecorum brought back to life in a small, auburn-haired whirlwind of vocality and action. Tobias had been enraptured by his wife's passion. He would have loved Desdemona in moments like this. It was this balance of emotion, this calm rationality and fire-breathing zeal that the Sorting Hat warned him of. She was so equally her parents it was uncanny.

Silently, he sent a word of love to their souls before returning to comfort their only child.

"Desdemona, listen to me. You didn't do anything that anyone, except yourself, blames you for. Maximilian Rowe may not have deserved to die the way he did, but you did not kill an innocent man. The blood on his hands far outweighed any wrongdoing you committed. Yes, you committed a terrible act, but you did it out of justice and good. Why do you refuse to see this?"

She snorted. "Out of justice and good? Papa, I killed him because he bragged about killing my parents! I didn't have revenge or justice or morality on my mind when I killed him. I had anger and hate and rage - oh the rage I felt when he stared at me, telling me how he killed them, how he tortured them on orders from his master, how I looked so like them and how he was pleased to bring this full-circle. You don't get it, Papa. I ENJOYED killing that man! I loved it! It made me feel so alive and so in control. That's the part of me I can't forgive, Papa! That's the kind of person – of thing – inside me that wants out, wants control of me. It doesn't matter that he provoked me, it doesn't matter that the Ministry considered this an act of self-defense. I thrilled, I basked in the knowledge that I killed him so completely that it left the remains of a small house in its wake! It was that – that creature that I almost let loose the night I tried to kill Lucius. It's that creature that every day I fight to keep in control, Papa. You can't tell me I'm a good person when I'm capable of things like...that."

_Growing tired of being kept like a prisoner in the headquarters. Not understanding why Papa kept her under such restrictive surveillance. The house was so closed, so contained. _

_Finally sneaking out just to take a simple walk. _

_Leaving her bodyguard behind._

_The voice she recognized in the shadows. "Well, well, well. Desdemona Dumbledore. Where's your powerful grandfather, little Desi? Why isn't he protecting you?"_

_Fear mingling with the hatred she felt for the man in front of her. "I hope I'm there when the Dementors give you the kiss you so righteously deserve, Malfoy."_

_The other figure stepping from the dark. "I highly doubt you'll see that day, Miss Dumbledore. However, I think we can arrange for you to see your long-lost family." The figure coming closer and closer, words continuing to fall from his lips; details of her parents' deaths making her stomach churn and her mind spin._

_Malfoy's laugh. "It's too bad that old flame of yours isn't in London tonight. What happened to cause you two to split, Desdemona? Did the two of you disagree over something?" His roar of laughter, white-blonde hair swaying with the force of it. _

_Rage filling her. One thought racing through her head._

_That man killed my parents... That man killed my parents... That man killed my parents..._

_Something inside her snapping, like a harp string. Fire burning her heart. Her voice screaming out in the night._

_A flash of green light. A body flying through the air._

_More rage pouring through her. The sound of rock collapsing around her._

_Laughter, deep and loud. Laughter coming from her own throat. Looking at a man preparing to run for his life. "What you have helped to take from me, so shall I help to take from you." _

_Her arm extending toward him, wand pointed out._

_The white light surrounding her, causing her to fall into unknown arms._

_Peace..._

Dumbledore stared at the woman before him who had grown strangely quiet, a far-off fog in her eyes. "Desdemona, it happened. No matter what, it will be a part of you. But it does not have to consume you. Look at the good you've done in your life since then. Doesn't that outweigh this one instance? Haven't you told Harry that intentions outweigh action? You tell your students not to measure a person by one act, one mistake alone, so why do you refuse to follow your own council?"

Desi had no answer.

"Does he know?" The question slipped from his lips in a whisper.

Desi sank down onto the floor, her voice breaking. "How am I supposed to tell him, Papa? 'Oh please don't be mad at me, but I've been a bloody hypocrite all these years, Sev, because I committed murder same as you but I still held you accountable while I ran from it?' That'll go over real well. Papa, I turned my back on him for deciding to join the Death Eaters. I left him behind. I begged you to re-sort me so I would never do something like that. And damn if I didn't follow that very path four years later. How do I even begin to tell him?"

Tears fell unnoticed.

"So, you plan to continue the charade, and let him think you left for America because of him? Even when I made it clear weeks ago that the charades were over?" He gave his granddaughter a reproachful look over his spectacles. "Doesn't he deserve the truth? Doesn't he need to know?"

"He knows there was more to my leaving than that. He just doesn't know the whole thing. And he doesn't need to know. He doesn't need that on his conscience." Stubbornness settled into the words.

Dumbledore sighed. "Desdemona, I can't tell you what you should and shouldn't do. It's not my place. As much as I still see the little girl who came to me with all of her heartaches and fears, you're a grown woman, and I must accept that fact, and give you the space to make your own choices. But against all of my expectations, Severus Snape has managed to confront his past and atone for it accordingly. If the two of you intend for your pasts to be firmly behind you, you will have to do the same. Any less is an insult to the efforts that have already been made. Any less, and your heart will forever be troubled. Any less, and somehow, Voldemort will use that as a wedge to pry you from your safe existence into one of turmoil and grief. I've seen him destroy people with fewer skeletons in their closets, little one. I'd hate to see him destroy you."

Dumbledore left his granddaughter sitting on the floor in the middle of her bedroom in his wake, the weight of decades of guilt and remorse keeping her from regaining her footing.

As he walked through his school's hallways, Dumbledore's thoughts were on that night as well. Discovering she'd left the house...hearing the explosion...the green flash of light...fearing the worst...hearing her laugh...stopping her before she killed Lucius Malfoy. The cover-up, the trip to America. All because of what he knew after that night.

Voldemort was after Desdemona in order to weaken him, and the Ministry would send her to Azkaban in a heartbeat if they knew the truth.

She was right; he had to admit that to himself. What she had done that night was wrong. It wasn't just, it wasn't fair, and it wasn't good. What he had done to protect her wasn't right either. But Dumbledore hated having to admit that. It would mean he'd have to admit that she was more her mother's daughter than he'd ever wanted to before. It meant the Sorting Hat had been right; that Desi would eventually lose control and composure and do something destructive and immoral. It didn't matter to him; he understood what Desi must have been feeling at that moment, and although it wasn't perfect, it wasn't something he could ever condemn her for.

It was his fault she had ever been placed in that position in the first place.

The one thing on his mind that night had been the thought that he wasn't letting his only grandchild fall into the hands of the very Dark wizard he'd vowed to fight.

The one thing on his mind tonight was saving his only grandchild from herself.

* * *

"Professor Snape." A voice caught Severus as he was finally leaving his office. Crabbe and Goyle had decided to leave their usually-fearless leader behind and terrorize some of the third-years by pretending to haunt the Shrieking Shack. Irritated beyond belief by having to be called down for something so immature, he'd given the pair a week of detention each and a round twenty points from their house. The paperwork finally complete and the detentions set, he felt he could escape.

He was wrong.

"Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?" The usually-fearless leader in question stood in the doorway, his eyes piercing the professor. He'd been avoiding Draco Malfoy ever since that night. He simply had no idea of what to say to the young man. While he was relieved to know that someone he'd expected to get the Dark Mark at his first chance had changed his mind, he felt awkward around him. Not to mention he'd never been good with kids anyway.

Draco looked around the office and up and down the corridor before entering the cluttered room. It had taken him several days to bring himself to approach Snape; he wasn't the same person he thought he knew anymore, and the changes in him threw Draco off completely. The sharp, secluded man had been replaced almost overnight by someone with intention and insight. It wasn't any detail in particular; he was still cold and distant, but there seemed to be more purpose to him. It confused Draco, as well as gave him even more to think about.

As if he needed any more food for thought.

"Professor, I wanted to know if you could tell me what's going on with my father. It's been weeks since the Order took him. My mother's not gotten an answer from the Ministry. Is he in Azkaban? Is he somewhere else? What will happen to him?"

Snape glared at his seemingly-favorite student. How he'd hated currying favor with Lucius Malfoy through his son, just to keep pretenses. The younger Malfoy had been a surprisingly good student, to be sure, but his cockiness and arrogance reminded Snape of his father. However, the benefits of playing up an appreciation of Draco had included keeping Lucius, and any other remaining Death Eaters, in the dark about his real intentions. It had served its purpose.

At the same time, condemning the son for the father's sins wasn't right.

He'd finally learned that lesson once this year.

"I'm surprised you're not asking Professor Drecorum, considering she was the one you were going to for advice all term." A definite chill laced the words that hung in the air. Unspoken behind those words were his real thoughts: he held Draco partially responsible for Desi's mental explosion that night. If he had come to him instead, she wouldn't have gotten involved. Of course, they might not have caught Malfoy, so maybe he shouldn't be so harsh on the boy.

Draco coughed, as if choking on the words in his throat. Memories of the petite professor pummeling his father without magical assistance still rang in his mind. He hadn't been so scared since that filthy hippogriff attacked him four years ago. "Well, sir, after seeing her let loose on my father that night, I'm a little hesitant to bother her. And you are my head of house. And you were there that night..."

Snape silenced him with a look. "I'm not at liberty to tell you where your father is, Mr. Malfoy, even if I knew. But I can tell you that when I last saw him, he was very much alive. Which, I'm sure you've guessed, was very recently. However, your father is scheduled to be tried for his crimes, again, in which case he will be joining the prisoners of Azkaban again very soon. Is there anything else?"

Draco wrung his hands. These questions about his father weren't the reason he was there in the first place. Summoning courage, he choked out the question he really wanted to ask. "Sir, my mother...she doesn't know that I...no one knows...they all think...what do I do now? School's over soon. I can't go home; they all expect me to have joined his side by now. I'm not some do-gooding little person, I'm not joining your precious Order. But I have no idea what to do. I thought since..."

Snape rolled his eyes. The sight of a Malfoy stuttering incoherently was a novelty, for sure. It was also damned annoying. "You thought that since I'd been faced with a similar decision years ago, I'd have advice for you. I don't, Mr. Malfoy. I saw firsthand what the Dark Arts does to a person. You begin to sell over yourself, you begin to become less of who you are and more of what someone else wants you to be. You saw what it did to your father; how it turned him into someone's servant instead of the self-serving individual you grew up with. You don't want that life; fine. It's a wiser decision than I made at your age."

The truth of that statement was more than he wanted to reveal, and he ran a hand over his face for a moment in order to regain composure. Having a heart-to-heart with the son of someone who wanted him dead hadn't been on his agenda for the evening. "But as for what to do now, I have no idea what to tell you. I will tell you this: you have a choice to either sever ties with the Malfoy family, or to put on a face of support and belonging to those in your clan who still support you-know-who. I don't know what to tell you. Frankly, I'm not qualified to give you this advice."

Draco nodded, the weight of the words settling on his shoulders. "That's about what I expected, Sir."

Snape rose, hands on the desk top, leaning over to look Malfoy in the eye purposefully. "You have some decisions to make, Mr. Malfoy. I'd suggest you go to think on them. You may want to speak to Professor Drecorum; she's well-versed in hideaways in America, if that's the route you choose. However, I would recommend having a chat with Professor Dumbledore about your future. You made an important choice that night, Mr. Malfoy, but you opened a closet full of subsequent decisions. Decisions you need to make. Now, is there anything else?"

The young man swallowed hard. "Sir, if you go to see my father again, will you tell him my mother sends her love?"

The professor nodded.

With nothing else to say for the moment, Draco Malfoy left the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, his conscience overloaded. Which, for him, wasn't a normal feeling since, until this school year, he could honestly say he'd never suffered from such a problem.


	10. Chapter Ten

Three days passed.

Lucius Malfoy remained unconscious, but reports from the Order indicated he was alive, his arm showing no signs of returning to its prior state. The medi-witch who checked in on him reported few, if any, signs of complications, although his refusal to wake up worried her. He was scheduled to be released to the Azkaban officials as soon as he was cleared health-wise. The trial would begin within a few weeks.

Albus Dumbledore was rarely present at his school. Instead, McGonagall acted in his stead, running the day-to-day operations while the Headmaster of Hogwarts found himself busy with some errand or another. The Ministry was busy negotiating with some of the Muggle authorities over how to respond to small attacks on muggles and muggle-born wizards' families, and Dumbledore spent hours there, helping Fudge with the politics of such action, while still directing the Order and the actions of its members. What little time he had left went into the school's administrative needs that Minerva simply couldn't handle. The toll all of this was taking was evident; the wizard's usual serene and positive energy was waning, and he looked far more tired than ever before.

Harry Potter was slowly growing more and more irritated with the professors around him. Just when he thought the teachers were beginning to treat him less like a child, the silence began again. He knew that Drecorum and Snape had been at the Order headquarters the other day, and he knew that they'd done something important. He'd overheard Hermione and McGonagall talking about some complex bit of transfiguration that Drecorum had managed to pull off, and there was only one guess what that was. Of all people he thought he could count on to keep him in the loop, Drecorum was it. Instead, no one answered his questions and Drecorum went off into some sort of near-isolation again. This was becoming more stressful than he'd ever anticipated. All he wanted was answers, and once again, no one seemed to want to provide them.

And, after three days of witnessing uncharacteristic silence and nervousness, Severus Snape developed the distinct impression that Desdemona Drecorum was hiding something from him. She'd grown distant and cold, shutting him out. This time, he had no idea why, but it was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. Desi didn't keep quiet; she screamed like a banshee. If something was eating at her, keeping her quiet and withdrawn, what was it?

By day four, all Hell broke loose.

* * *

"He's awake, alive, and unmarked. The medi-witch said he needed a few days to get his strength back, but other than that, you can't tell he was ever tortured by the curse or in a coma from the transfiguration. Congratulate yourself, Des. You found the way to undo what should have been permanent. You-know-who's not going to like this."

If his head had consisted of more than flame, she'd have hit it with the poker. "Well, I had help. Thank the founders Miss Granger has a better hand at transfiguration than I, or we'd still be back at square one. I would never have thought of transfiguration; that was her idea, based off reading about the Dark Mark in Sev's class. I was merely looking for a potion to solve the problem."

Lupin chuckled. "You can't save all the men in your life with a mere potion, Des."

She smiled for the first time in days. "Hey, it worked once. Just make sure you take yours, Remus. I think I finally figured out what happens in eight days." Her face warred between stern disapproval and friendly amusement.

A roar of laughter came from the fireplace. "He deserved it, Des. And the look on his face... did he take me seriously?"

This time she outright smirked. "Maybe. And while it was a lovely big-brotherly thing to do, Remus, if I was really interested in dating a werewolf, you and I could have taken care of that years ago. For whatever reason, I prefer him as is, angst, black wardrobe, and all."

Remus Lupin sighed sarcastically, turning away from the flame for a second. "Well, there you go, breaking my heart. All my hopes and dreams of our future have just been dashed on the rocks." He suddenly caught a look in Des's eyes he wasn't used to seeing. Sadness gleamed behind the blue eyes, and her posturing was very withdrawn and guarded. This wasn't his little sister's normal behavior. "Are you alright, Des?"

Desi turned away from the fire for a moment, taking that break to get her emotions in check. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure? You don't look fine, sis. In fact, you look a pretty good distance from fine."

She smiled wanly at his concern. It was sweet, how he was so protective of her feelings, even after all these years. She knew how much her friendship meant to him; she'd known about his 'condition' longer than most of the students at Hogwarts. She'd been there for him when James and Lily died; when they thought Sirius had killed Peter, he'd been an emotional wreck. For a while, she was the only friend he had left who had cared enough to watch over him during his transformations. It was why she spent years working on the Wolfsbane Potion; her big brother deserved a real life.

She'd been by his side just as he'd been by hers. When she'd been resorted into Gryffindor, it was Remus who held her as she cried in the common room night after night. When she was sent to America, it was Remus who went with her, making sure she was secure. He had been hell-bent on making sure she was protected, safe, and as happy as possible.

But Remus couldn't always stand by her side.

She nodded. "Really, I'm fine. I promise. I just have to do something now, and I've got that suspicion that it's not going to be pleasant."

Lupin nodded. He knew that soft tone all too well. While some people could conceal their emotions with ease, Des had always been an open book to him. He knew when to back away and give her the space she needed. Besides, he would always be there for her when she needed him, and she knew that all too well.

It was one of those unspoken agreements between people who had been friends for decades. Sometimes, words never uttered aloud carried the most weight of all.

"Well, then, I'll leave you to it." With a loud pop, he left the fireplace and turned to an elderly man who sat in the shadows, out of sight of the fireplace. "Well, for what it's worth, I think she's finally decided to tell him."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Remus. Let's hope this doesn't go as badly as she fears."

Lupin had no response. He hadn't been there that night, something he'd blamed himself for at the time. He knew she'd been feeling like a prisoner; he could have helped. Instead, he'd been elsewhere, spending time with Sirius and Peter and James at some lousy bar, having a few drinks and playing poker like old times. His guilt at not being with Des had been painful, but it didn't measure to what she felt when she'd woken up the next morning.

"_Is she alright?"_

_The older man's tired sigh. "I'm not sure, Remus. Physically, yes, she is fine. Neither of them harmed her. But emotionally? I won't know until she wakes."_

"_What happened, Dumbledore?" Concern kicking him in the stomach._

"_She managed to slip out of the house during the meeting, and ran into Rowe and Malfoy. From what I could see of her memories, Rowe confessed to what we all knew but could not prove; he was responsible for Cassandra and Tobias' deaths. The shock snapped Desdemona's self-control."_

_Looking at the pensieve on the bedside table. Taking his friend's cold hand. Wishing like hell that this was a bad dream. "You mean...the damage...Des did that?"_

_A silent nod._

_Regret making his heart ache. "I should have been here..."_

"_How could you have known, Remus? How could any of us have known?"_

_Silence filling the corners of the room._

"_What will happen when the ministry finds out?"_

_Firm resolution. "They will not find out, Remus. They believe it was self-defense; that she was too young to know what she did. That is what they will continue to believe. Is that clear?"_

_Swallowing in the face of his former headmaster. "Yes, sir."_

_Fatigue taking over the old man. "Let us leave her. She needs her rest far more than anything else. She will need her strength soon enough."_

_A whisper as they closed her door. "I should have never kept her so close so long."_

_The next morning, sitting by her bed as she looked at him with empty eyes. "How do I begin to say I'm sorry, Remus?"_

_Having no answer for her. _

The guilt she laid on herself was enormous, but he understood why. Losing her self-control like that, her rash decision to sneak out of the house, her short-sightedness had not only cost a man his life and her some freedom, but it also resonated with a decision that Snape had made years ago. A decision she had despised. A decision she was determined never to forgive. She spent years loathing herself afterwards, feeling as if she were no better than the Death Eater who had died at her hands. But, above all else, it had shown her what she was capable of, and she feared that part of herself.

It was what made them such close friends. They both feared the monsters that resided in their souls.

* * *

Desdemona strode through hallways, passing classrooms and study rooms right and left. She'd hoped to spend a few hours working on some of the more complicated potions that her class would be concocting for their NEWTs. Part of her teaching philosophy was providing examples; if they could see the way hers' turned out, it meant a better product overall. Even Neville Longbottom was slowly improving, but she suspected that was because he was less scared of her than of Severus. She also needed to clear her mind, and for some reason, a smoldering cauldron helped. She'd have to find Severus sometime soon to attempt the Mutopriopro spell, and the voice in her head told her she should do that as soon as her mind was clear enough to concentrate.

Severus had bugged her for three days running about the spell. She'd never before thought that she could grow so weary of his voice, his presence. But she had.

_That's not fair, girl. You're avoiding him for reasons completely separate from the spell, and you know it. Your papa's right. You shouldn't keep this secret. Look what it's doing to you right now. You're as much Gryffindor as Slytherin, child – own up to that bravery and get it over with._

She hated her conscience.

All she wanted was some quiet and peaceful silence for two hours to work on the remembrance potion of hers. That's all she asked for in the world. Two hours of peace, bliss, fire and cauldron.

Instead, she heard voices from one of the rooms she passed. Raised voices. Raised voices she recognized.

This wasn't a good sign.

"...trying to, if you'd shut up long enough to let me explain!"

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up, Potter!"

"Then give me a second! We've been going at this for hours."

"I'm taking precious time out of my schedule to school you in these defenses, at your request as I recall, and damn it all, you're going to learn them if it takes until next Christmas!"

Desi threw the doors open. "What in the world are you two doing?" She stared at Severus and Harry, wands aimed at each other, looks of death in their eyes. They both jumped at her presence, their wand arms fell to their sides, and silence filled the room.

She seethed at the sight. How many hours had she spent arguing with that thick-headed excuse for a Slytherin about this? And damn it, didn't she lecture Harry on this just the other day? Hell's bells, couldn't the two act mature for five seconds? "I'm waiting for an answer. And it had better be good because if it isn't, when my grandfather gets his hands on you both..." She trailed off with a line of curses that made both men turn pale and stare at her with jaws hanging wide.

"WELL?" The bark of her voice hung in the air. Snape and Potter exchanged looks before one braved the witch's ire.

That privilege fell to Severus.

"Extra defense classes." He muttered with uncharacteristic meekness, examining a spot on the floor in front of him with incredible interest. He wouldn't have lost his temper if Potter had kept his in check. Well, probably wouldn't have lost his temper. He shouldn't have been shouting at Potter, but having the young wizard refuse to listen to him on top of everything else was getting to be more than enough for him. Damn it all, the waiting game with Malfoy and the transfiguration, not to mention Desi's weird moments of uneasiness, was all grating on his nerves.

Desi crossed her arms. "And part of these lessons includes screaming at each other? I don't really remember Voldemort creating a curse out of 'shut up'. When did that happen?"

Harry took a deep breath. In all fairness to himself, he was to blame as much as Snape. He was distracted from the feelings of exclusion from the professors who had welcomed him into their fold earlier this year. "It's my fault, Professor. I asked Professor Snape to help me with extra defense lessons, since he's been teaching stuff in class you never covered." He paused to swallow hard before continuing. "And I disagreed with his philosophy. Perhaps a little too strongly."

Desi's eyes slid from one to the other and back again. "And what philosophy is this, exactly?" The chill still hadn't left her voice.

Harry bit his lip. "He seems to think that my lack of restraint is going to get me killed. That I'm not controlling my emotions well enough. That if I don't learn how to not be provoked, when it comes time to face Voldemort, I'm not going to survive. He," he snarled unthinkingly, jerking his thumb towards the black-clad professor he had been arguing with, "somehow has the idea that emotions are only going to weaken me and make me more susceptible to Voldemort and his tactics."

Desi felt the color leave her face. She felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.

"_Child, you need to learn to keep a rein on your emotions. Otherwise, one day, they'll be your undoing."_

"_But, Papa, it's hard."_

"_I know, little one. But remember, if you feel rather than think, at the wrong time, you may not be able to save yourself."_

_Making the mistake eight years later._

"He's right, Harry." The words came out in such a soft waver that neither Snape nor Harry thought they'd heard her correctly. She repeated herself, this time her voice a little stronger. "He's right."

Both men dropped their wands in shock.

Memories washed over her in that instant. Conversations with her grandfather, with Remus. Nightmares of screams in the night and flashes of green light. The fire burning in her heart. The total loss of control. More recent memories: blood on her hands and clothing, not remembering how exactly it happened.

A lone tear fell down her incredibly pale cheek.

"Listen to him, Harry. He's right. Voldemort will use whatever weakness to get to you, especially emotions. Trust him; he'd know." Her voice threatened to crack. "So do I, just not in the same way."

She turned to leave the room but was stopped by a commanding voice. "Would you care to explain that incredibly cryptic comment?"

"Not really." Her retort carried the weight of frustration and undertones of resignation. She fled the room without another word.

"I hate that woman and her enigmatic metaphors!" Snape walked over to where his wand lay on the floor, snatching it quickly. "What does she mean, 'just not in the same way'? Some times I really wish she'd..."

Harry coughed. "I think I know what she meant."

The shouting ceased. Snape spun on his heel to face the young wizard. "What did you say?"

Harry fidgeted for a second. On one hand, he knew he probably shouldn't open his mouth. On the other hand, Snape was likely willing to cause bodily harm right this second.

He erred on the side of caution.

"She told me about her parents' deaths. We both lost our parents to Voldemort, and we talked about that. We talked about how they died, and how it affected us. Drecorum's parents had been sent by the Ministry to arrest Rowe, and they never came home. When she began asking questions about it, when she lived at the Order with Dumbledore, her parents' friends told her that it was her mother's temper that got them in the situation in the first place. That if her mother hadn't snapped, Rowe wouldn't have had the chance to attack them the way he did. Supposedly, he got to her so she did something stupid, and it gave him a chance to do _Avada Kedavra_ on them before apparating."

Snape turned shades of white Harry never thought possible on a human being before. It made his dark hair and clothing that much darker. He couldn't believe what Potter was telling him. He had never known how her parents had died. She'd never told him. All Desi had ever said to him in school was that they'd died when she was ten.

The Ministry sent them to arrest Rowe.

That meant they had been aurors.

Her parents had been killed by a Death Eater.

She had begged him to not become a Death Eater.

Everything started making too much sense.

Damning himself to the deepest part of Hell for what he'd done half a lifetime ago, Severus ran out the open door, bound and determined on somehow making this right with her. He didn't have far to run. Crashing glass told him Desi was breaking things in her classroom again.

"Would you like to put down that flask and talk like civilized people?" He asked her from her classroom doorway, a bottle of belladonna essence in her hand aimed for the far wall.

The bottle flew through the air. "Not really." The chill in the words cut through the air just as the bottle shattered.

He walked over and removed another bottle, this one filled with dragon bile, from her hand. "Too bad." She looked at him with vagueness in her eyes. A sort of emptiness that he never would have associated with Desdemona. He'd only seen that look one in one other person's eyes in his life.

His own. In a mirror, years before, in a hotel room in London.

The vagueness gave way to anger. "Well? You stopped me for some reason. What do you want to talk about? You're obviously here to give me some great Severus-Snape-Holier-Than-Thou lecture. Come on, shout at me!"

He couldn't bring himself to shout back. Her change in temperament took him off-guard, but he couldn't make himself roar back at her. On the other hand, his temper was slowly rising and he wasn't going to be able to keep it in check much longer. The damned woman made him want to slap her back into reality. Instead, he grabbed both of her wrists so she couldn't throw anything else across the room and yanked her towards him, holding her in an iron grip.

"When in bloody hell were you ever planning to tell me about your parents? WHEN, Desi? I've known you since you were eleven years old! I've worked for and with your grandfather for seventeen years. Three years you stalked me from one end of these grounds to another, opening up so you could make me talk to you. How many months have gone by since you let me back into your life? And I have to learn that the woman I love hated me for twenty-five years because a Death Eater killed her parents from a STUDENT? You exceedingly selfish woman! I didn't know, Desi. YOU never bothered to tell me! If I had any clue, don't you think I would have reconsidered that incredibly stupid decision? Damn it, Desi, how was I supposed to know?"

With that, he let go of her wrists.

She took that chance and slapped him.

"I'm getting tired of you charging to my rescue, stopping me from doing what I want. If I want to rant and rave, I will. If I want to scream, yell, and cry, I will. And I'll throw whatever bottles in this room that I please, and you can just take a flying leap off Gryffindor Tower if you don't like it! I don't need a babysitter, Severus!"

He snarled right back. "Really? Because you're acting pretty childish right now!"

"Go to Hell."

"I'm already there, dear." His chest heaved as he tried to breathe instead of join her in destroying her potions' stores. "I've been there for a quarter of a century. Now that I know how deep I cut your heart back then, I merely entered another level of it. Hell and I have been acquainted for more years than you know."

Something inside Desi broke.

"You self-involved complete ass. Always thinking that you're the sole reason for all my pain and misery. Well, you can drop the martyr act this time. This isn't about my damned parents, or you, Severus! It's about me! It's about what I did!" She screamed at him while reaching for anything to throw at the wall; her hand didn't find anything.

He'd moved it all with a wave of his wand. The bastard.

What she did? What in Hades is she talking about? "Fine. I didn't do it. I'm not responsible for whatever has set you off. What is it? What is so terrible that you're not telling me? What is so horrific that it has you throwing things and avoiding questions? Damn it, Desdemona, don't make me go ask Dumbledore!"

When she didn't answer, he snorted in disgust. "Fine. Have it your way." Severus headed for the door.

He stopped at a strangled cry. "Wait!"

Desi stood shaking next to her desk. The auburn hair framing her face accentuated how pale she was; the normal color in her face had faded to a white paler than his own skin. Her shoulders looked as if they bore weights on them.

She looked broken. It almost frightened him.

Desi's voice shook. "You want to know why I'm upset. Fine. It's pretty simple, really. When I was eighteen, I left England for the states to hide from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic for murdering a Death Eater."

Any remaining color on Severus Snape's face, which hadn't been much to begin with, was now gone. "Wha-when? How? Who? What in the Hell?" With every word, his voice grew in volume until he howled.

Desi swallowed. "When I was eighteen, I was staying with Papa in London in the Order's original headquarters. One night, because I was unbelievably stupid and frustrated with bodyguards and restrictions, I slipped out to take a walk. Waiting for me were Lucius Malfoy and Maximilian Rowe."

A look of recognition suddenly spread on Severus' face. "But Rowe was killed by aurors from the ministry..." His voice trailed off, silenced by the fierce look in the blue eyes before him. Dear Gods. She wasn't kidding.

"No, he wasn't, Sev. I killed him. After he told me that he had been the one to kill my parents. After he outright said he had been sent to London to kill me. After Malfoy made a snide comment about my 'old flame' being elsewhere, and how horrible it was he wasn't there to witness my tragic end." Desi was surprised at how easy the words were falling from her lips. She turned eyes shadowed with guilt towards him. "I lost control. I snapped. I didn't just kill him, Sev. I reveled in it. I enjoyed knowing he was dead and I was the cause." Now her eyes burned with blue fire. "I laughed when it was over."

Severus' head spun like the wheels on a carriage. He'd heard of the damage Rowe was found in. Piles of debris. An entire house destroyed by the blast of the spell that killed Rowe. They'd barely been able to find enough to declare him dead.

That had been...Desi?

It didn't make sense.

"Why am I just now finding this out?" He didn't yell. He didn't growl. Instead, it was an oddly empty voice. One she'd rarely ever heard him use. "I can understand your grandfather keeping this quiet for all these years. I can understand why no one told me before this school year. But why are you just now coming around to telling me this? Why couldn't you trust me to know this?"

Tears warred with rage. "Papa told me to tell you, but I couldn't. I didn't know how, and I couldn't make myself say the words. I've spent all these years pretending it didn't happen. And then I was supposed to tell you? Don't you get it, Sev? Everything I've hated you for, everything I've let you hate yourself for, I did too. And I did it with less provocation. You had a lifetime of reasons; I had a moment. What's my excuse? I'm hot-headed and impulsive? What gives me the right to use that as an excuse for justifiable murder?"

"What gave me the right, Desi?" The quiet roar of his voice managed to scare her into silence. Right now, she wished he was screaming at her, instead of this sadness in his tone. "You were young and stupid and in danger. What about me? What right did I have to torture people? To cause them to feel pain like you wouldn't believe? What gave me the right to kill a man myself? You think you have the right to feel guilty and responsible? You think what you did is so much more terrible than what I did?"

He rolled his left sleeve up to show her the mark they both hated. "Do you honestly think that killing one person makes you that much worse than me?"

Desi bit her lip and remained silent.

"Fine." Severus rolled down his sleeve and turned his back on her. "Have it your way. Wallow in your own self-hate and melodrama. It didn't do me any good, but maybe you'll find solace in it."

The door slammed behind him on his way out.

"You talk to her." He snarled at Potter as he stormed down the hall. "I'll hex her if I stay in there any longer."

Harry stood, shell-shocked, in the hallway for a full minute. Did Snape just...did he ask him to...did he just treat him like an equal?

The door creaked as he opened it. Desi sat at her desk, her head in her hands.

"Why, Harry?" The quiet voiced carried along the silence. "Why did you have to tell him?" Blue eyes looked up at him, set in a pale face that looked so old and so young all at once, filled with emotions Harry couldn't even name. "Why did you have to say something?"

He swallowed. "I'm sorry, Professor. It just came out."

She sighed deeply. "Well, it would have come out sooner or later. I just wish he'd try to see things from my point of view."

Harry fidgeted with his hands. "With respect, Professor, maybe you should try to see things from his."

"Excuse me?" She stared at the young wizard before her.

He stared straight at her. In some part of his mind, Harry couldn't believe what he was about to do. "I couldn't help but hear what you were saying, the door being open and all. But he's right. I don't know what Professor Snape has done in his life. I don't want to know. But from what I do know, it makes everything you did pale in comparison. Your grandfather trusts him. The Order trusts him. As much as I hate admitting it, I trust him. Why would we treat you any less?"

The young wizard became braver when he realized no glass objects were going to fly past his head. "So you did something horrible? Does that make everything good you've done all this time worthless? You spent hours lecturing me on good and bad, right and wrong. Remember the night you suggested that Draco Malfoy could undo his wrongs by doing something right? Does the fact that you helped him not join Voldemort outweigh you killing a Death Eater? Professor, I haven't changed my mind about you just because I know you did something like that. So you laughed and enjoyed killing him. If I ever manage to kill Voldemort, I may very well do something similar. But it doesn't change who you are. I still look up to you. Hermione and Ron probably would. It might give you more credibility among the Slytherins. I think we can all assume that Dumbledore couldn't think of you in a negative light no matter how hard he tried. And I think I can be brave enough to assume it doesn't change the fact that Snape still loves you."

"How do you know about that?" She jerked as if doused with cold water.

Harry rolled his bright green eyes. Damn, no wonder Snape had lost his temper with her. And he thought Ron had a one-track mind..."It's obvious to anyone around the two of you for five seconds. You would have to have been completely blind, or as bad a seer as Trelawney, to not know by now. He's been silently watching your every move in this castle all school year. I don't think you could take a walk to Hagrid's and back without him knowing. You didn't see the way he looked at you after that night with Malfoy. You don't know how worried he was when we found your robes but didn't find you. When we did find you, he wouldn't let Dumbledore or I anywhere near you. When I ran to him to tell him you'd gone after Malfoy, he spent a full minute describing what he would do to Malfoy if he laid a finger on you. And if that doesn't convince you, this should. Nothing in this world, not even Professor Dumbledore's request, would have made him stop loathing me, until he told me you had coaxed him into it. If that isn't a sign that he cares about you," he almost whispered, refusing to break eye contact, "then I don't know what is. And if you sit back and insist on letting whatever Malfoy said to you four days ago eat at you like this, then you don't deserve Snape."

Desi stared at him. "How do you know what Malfoy said to me?"

He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and tossed it on the table. "You're not the only friend Lupin has in this world." With that, Harry walked out on his professor, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	11. Chapter Eleven

"You're talking about me behind my back now?"

Remus Lupin groaned as he watched her step through the flames. "Des, I wrote Harry because he wrote me. He wanted to know if I had any clue what happened over here to make you distracted. He's not exactly thrilled with the fact that you've been keeping him out of the loop the last few days, since you're the one who worked to get him there in the first place." He rubbed his eyes, which were sore from dust in the filthy home that the Order called headquarters. Molly tried and tried, but she could never seem to finish cleaning the Black home. "Moody mentioned Malfoy had said something to get under your skin, told me what you replied, and I put two and two together. Harry asked me what the hell happened to you when you were here last because he could tell something had from the way you were acting, and I told him the truth. Malfoy reminded you of a mistake you made years ago and you hadn't managed to tell Severus yet and it was probably eating you up inside. I also asked him to keep an eye on you. Your grandfather was worried about how you'd handle letting the love of your life in on the family secret, and he agreed to keep an eye on you." His expression turned guilty. "I was too, to be honest. I know you, Des. You don't let go of guilt easily. I just wanted to make sure you would be alright."

Desi echoed her best friend's groan as she sank into the chair he pointed to. "You. Papa. Sev. Now Harry. Why are all the men in my life trying to take care of me?"

"Maybe because we all love you, Des. Ever think of that?" He smiled wanly at her. He missed James and Sirius; they'd been the brothers he'd never had. Desdemona wasn't quite the same and she never tried to be. The unlikeliest best friend he could ever have asked for all those years ago, when everyone who mattered to him disappeared. Probably the only person he'd ever met who had an idea of what being a werewolf was really like on the emotional level. "Honestly, Des. You're harder on yourself than you need to be. You're neither perfect nor some monster. You're human. Trust me, I know. I am one."

"Remus, a few days a month doesn't take away your humanity."

"Nor does one stupid mistake, Des." Lupin braced himself; this was either going to completely backfire or completely work. He didn't know which, but he was determined to get through to her. "You're normal, Des. You're going to snap and lose your temper and act irrationally. It's not the end of the world. You made one incredibly bad mistake. In a lifetime of trying to save the world, you made one bad call. It's a better score than I managed."

He paused to let the words sink in, watching her body language. "Think, Des. You pleaded with the Sorting Hat to place you in Slytherin based on nothing more than seeing some lonely boy get teased during your first train ride to Hogwarts. You made friends with your tutor because you picked up on the fact that he wasn't around a few days every month. You spent five years coming up with a potion to keep me sane every time a full moon rose. You worked out a way to reverse the most hated piece of dark wizardry created in forty years. You came back to Hogwarts knowing full well you'd have to eventually own up to your past. You managed to convince the heir to the main evil family of England to try a different career option. Hell, Des, don't you think, for five minutes, all of that outweighs killing some piece of filth who was hell-bent to kill you?"

"You know it's more than that, Remus. We've been through this all before. It's not just the murder, it's the..."

"Des, I love you with my whole heart, but right now I want to throttle you." Lupin growled, slowly losing his temper with her. Instead of hurting her, he reached over, taking both of her hands into his own. "You're missing the point. Were you yourself? No. I saw you that night, remember? I was by your side the day after. You weren't the usual Desdemona we all knew. I'd be lying if I said we weren't a little scared of you. You were angry and vengeful and maybe a little disconnected from the moment. But, Des, it doesn't make you a horrible creature."

She was too tired to yell anymore. The weight of everyone in her life saying the same thing was crushing her. "Then why do I feel like it does?"

He smiled faintly at her. "It's called guilt, Des. It's not a sign that you're going insane. It's not an indication that you're some terrible being who is going to erupt at any time and destroy all you know and love. It just shows you have a conscience. You were a human being pushed a little too far. End of story. Now," he yawned, "are you done beating yourself up again, or are you still concerned you're going to turn into the bride of Slytherin?"

The joke finally reached her. "I feel like a total idiot."

"Well, frankly, you should. The big Dumbledore family secret it out: Desdemona killed a Death Eater, and laughed as she did it. Sweetheart, if that's the only skeleton in your closet, you have less to feel guilty for than most wizards I've met in my lifetime." He turned to look over his shoulder. "I've got night watch, Des. Are you finally alright?"

Desi looked up at the clock behind him and rubbed her tired eyes. "Yeah, I think I am."

Her best friend took her in his arms and held her close for a moment, reassuring her that she would never be alone, laying a gentle kiss on top of her head. "Good. In that case, go find tall, dark, and loathsome and set things right with him. And if you need me to bite him, just let me know."

She actually giggled. It was music to his ears.

* * *

"What?"

The cold stare, narrow eyes, and snarled question showed Desi he was more upset than she'd originally thought. Oh well. She deserved it. Heaving a sigh of frustration, she stepped in the room. "Can we talk?"

"About what? I'm busy."

"Nice try, Sev. You have lesson plans done for the next month. I know; we wrote them together, remember? And you finished your grading last night." Desi swallowed. "I owe you an apology."

"You're damned right you do." The anger in his voice was unavoidable. He leaned back in his office chair and crossed his arms over his chest, rage lying just below his cold surface. "So, apologize."

"You don't need to make it any harder than it already is, Severus." Desi walked up to his desk, leaned against it with palms on the desktop, and stared him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I never told you about Rowe. I'm sorry I never came out and said what I've been worrying about ever since confronting Malfoy that night. I'm sorry that the best I've done is hint at things and that I never found the time or the words to tell you something that you deserved to hear. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about my parents when I was eleven because I didn't like thinking about them. I'm sorry that I was so ashamed of something in my past that I covered it up and hid it from everyone I know. And I'm sorry that I didn't have a clue as to how to share this all with you. Is that a good enough apology?"

Black eyes glared into blue. "You forgot about apologizing for slapping me."

That smug, sanctimonious bastard...

Her arm drew back to replicate, rather than apologize for, the act. He caught her wrist just before it made contact. "No, Desdemona. I didn't deserve it then, and I don't deserve it now."

The glare in her eyes didn't quite match the sulking pout that was on her face, and Severus fought hard to not laugh. He thought it was cute; she'd consider it an insult if he said so. "Are you done apologizing?"

Her only response was to raise her eyebrows.

"I'll take that to be a yes." He was torn between bitter anger with her over keeping a secret and a desire to protect her from any further pain. Potter had known; hell, Lupin had known. That alone rankled him; of all people on the planet for Desdemona to choose as a best friend, it had to be the werewolf he'd hated since school. Dumbledore knew, fine, he was her grandfather. But a werewolf and a student knowing the woman he'd pined after for twenty five years considered herself a murderer when he had no clue bothered him immensely.

Could he let her think he merely forgive her for not trusting him?

_But she forgave you..._

Sometimes, he hated having a conscience.

"If I accept your apology, then what, Desi?" The question came out in a resigned and tired voice. It was close to midnight and this had been a longer day than he'd anticipated. "Do we pretend today didn't happen? Do we just go about our happy little relationship as if nothing was said? Do I just forget that you couldn't trust me enough to tell me this? Do you forget that I was offended by that lack of trust? What do we do, Desi?"

She closed her eyes, chewing on her lower lip in an attempt to not start crying. She deserved his bitterness. "I don't know, Sev. I don't know." Her voice was shaking, her hands trembling. "All I know is I've hated myself for what I've done for so long, I assume everyone who finds out about it will hate me too. I never thought when I came back here that I'd have to confess this to anyone, especially you. And then things were going well, and it felt like we'd put so much behind us that I was too afraid to bring it back up with you, and I don't know what else to say anymore other than I'm sorry..." Her voice broke as it trailed off, almost in pain from holding back tears.

From where he stood, Severus Snape felt he had two choices. He could let her continue her little self-loathing trip, or he could tell her he'd forgiven her hours ago after a lengthy conversation with her big brother Lupin, who had decided to pop his head in his fireplace after talking to Potter. Heart to hearts with people he didn't care for were not the thrill of his life; but then again, they'd both seemed able to put aside their differences for her sake. Their talk had explained more than Desi knew.

"_So she could tell you and not me?"_

"_No, you thick-headed moron. All these years of potions classes must have made sure you sniffed enough fumes to go mental. I was there, Severus. I came back to the house in time to see them carrying her in, unconscious from the sleeping spell Dumbledore cast on her. He showed me the memory he took from her and added to his pensieve. She wasn't herself, Severus. She wasn't herself for days later. We were all afraid she'd gone mad."_

"_Was I supposed to never find out? How come you could know and I couldn't?"_

"_You weren't with the Order yet. You were still with Voldemort. The only reason Dumbledore told me was because he was afraid Des was going to lose her mind, and I was the only person he trusted and she cared for. Then he decided to get her far away before Malfoy could say anything and the truth came out. And for the record, Count Grumpy, she was on her way to tell you when whatever caused her to snap happened. I talked to her earlier today; she was trying to find a way to tell you."_

"_She was?"_

"_Yes, Severus. She was planning to tell you. Don't be so hard on her; she put herself through hell when she realized what she did. You weren't there to see what it did to her back then. She was nothing more than a walking ghost for days; she spent years hating herself. No matter how mad you might be at her, it pales in comparison to how she feels about herself, I promise you."_

"_So, what, I'm supposed to be fine with it?"_

"_No, you idiot. You're supposed to take care of her like I told you to."_

That pesky conscience of his crept up again.

He walked around the desk, turned Desi by her shoulders, and forced her to look up at him. "There is nothing in this world I could do to punish you more than you punished yourself. Even if I hated you for this, even if I blamed you, and even if I thought I couldn't trust you with so much as a blank piece of parchment, you've managed to make yourself more miserable than I ever could. I don't hate you, I don't blame you, and I do trust you. So, quit making yourself miserable so the two of us can deal with this, because frankly, I have enough to worry about with a dark lord wanting you, me, and half the people we know dead without having to worry about whether or not you're off sulking because we had a fight."

A small spark lit up her eyes behind unshed tears. "I haven't been sulking. I've been..."

"Shut up, Desi."

Those were the last words either of them uttered for quite some time.

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"For the tenth time, Desdemona, let's get this over with."

The pair stood in the hospital wing of the school, with McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey in attendance. Minerva wanted to see this piece of transfiguration for herself. Madam Pomfrey was just preparing for another patient.

Albus Dumbledore was there to comfort his granddaughter if something went wrong.

"Alright. If you're sure you're ready..."

"Damn it to hell, Desdemona!" McGonagall and Pomfrey jumped at the roar that came from the Defense professor. "Zeus and Hera, even Voldemort didn't make me wait this long the first time around. Will you just bloody do it already so this can be over?" A flicker of motion at his side made him turn in time to see Desi reach in her robes for the bottle hanging around her neck. "And don't think for a second you're pulling that little trick!" Severus seethed with rage. "Give that bottle to me. No damned potion. That's final!"

Desdemona seized her hands into fists and fought the urge to hex his ears off. "Why the hell not? I thought we covered this last night. You're taking the damned potion and THAT'S final!"

"WE didn't cover anything. YOU decided. I told you once, Desi, you're NOT suffering this for me. I made this choice. I'm going to bear the consequences, and to hell with your noble thoughts!"

"Fine. Have it your way, then." She tucked the bottle back in her robes. "I hope this hurts."

"We both know it will. Just do it." He rolled up his sleeve, clenching his jaw and preparing himself for the pain he knew was coming. If it was anything like the experience of getting the mark, this would be far from pleasant.

Desi would certainly get her wish. Damn her and her stubborn pride.

_Hell, damn my own._

The three other occupants of the room politely remained silent until the pair finished with their daily screaming match.

Desi took a deep breath and calmed her mind. Meditation - yet another useful Muggle trick she'd learned. They really weren't as off-the-mark as some wizards wanted to believe. With a glance to her grandfather and a nod from Severus, she tapped his left arm three times.

"Mutopriopro."

Just as before, white light poured from the end of Desi's wand and wrapped itself around Severus' arm, focusing on the Dark Mark she'd tapped. As with Malfoy's transfiguration, the room echoed with the sound of tearing cloth. The sound didn't come close to the experience. Severus felt as if the skin on his arm was lifting away, ripping from his arm, only to be sewn on again. At first, he suffered in silence. However, eventually, the screams from pain came. The sensation of stretching and pulling, of a needle sewing on new skin, of nerves and muscle being ripped from his arm and then suddenly reconnecting became too much. Snape hit the floor on his knees, clutching his arm, until he finally fell over, unconscious.

As the light faded, Desi stood completely still, not breathing or blinking. McGonagall ran to one side to check Snape's upper arm while Madam Pomfrey went to the other to check for a pulse and breathing.

They replied in unison. The Mark was gone. He was alive.

Desdemona sagged against a bed, too tired, both physically and emotionally, to hold herself upright anymore, and watched Madam Pomfrey levitate Severus to a bed of his own. Dumbledore walked over to join her, holding her hand and offering her a bar of chocolate to regain her strength.

The waiting began.

It wasn't long before they got a reaction. However, it was one no one had anticipated.

The hospital wing doors slammed open, and a pair of students slowly made their way through, supporting between them a third student, falling in and out of consciousness, intermittent screams of pain and silence coming from him. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Pomfrey ran to Harry Potter's side while Desi stayed where she was, her eyes darting back and forth from him to Sev and back. It was all she had strength left to do.

"The scar..." Harry managed to eek out the words between blackouts. "He's angry..."

The headmaster looked at Ron and Hermione with searching eyes. "What happened?"

The pair exchanged looks. "We were in the library studying when his scar started hurting again, Professor." Ron never took his eyes off his friend, who was being moved to a bed of his own. "He doesn't complain about it much anymore because he's grown used to it. But he collapsed, and then woke up and said we needed to find you, and passed out again and we dragged him here as fast as we could. We ran into Nick, who said you were all here for some reason, and..." His eyes wandered over to another bed in the room, and he fell silent.

Hermione finished his thoughts. "All Harry kept saying when he could talk was that we needed to find you, Professor. Or Professor Drecorum. Over and over, all he said was "Dumbledore...Drecorum...need to know..." It took us quite a few minutes to get here." She followed Ron's gaze to the other end of the room. "Sir, what happened to Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore pointed to Desi, who was finally rising from her bed to walk to Harry's side after choking down the chocolate. "I believe you know full well, Miss Granger, considering you helped find the spell." He joined his granddaughter at Harry's bedside.

"What in bloody Hell does that mean?" Ron snorted.

Hermione rolled her eyes yet again. "Ron, the transfiguration. The Mark. Hello?"

Ron looked as if a light had gone off overhead. "Oh. Right. Almost had forgotten about that. Is he alright? Snape, I mean. He don't look so good."

Desi jerked up to look at the redhead. "He'll be alright. Eventually. Don't worry about him; look after Harry."

The wizard in question came out of his fog again to a sea of faces. Urgency poured through his green eyes. "Dumbledore! Drecorum!" Bits and pieces came out of Harry's mouth. "Voldemort...the Mark...he felt it. Thought Malfoy was dead...Can't feel Snape anymore. Livid."

All color left Desi's face. She looked up and saw her grandfather's face echoed hers.

Voldemort knew what they'd done.

How?

Desi yanked the chain around her neck over her head and handed it to Ron. "Stay with him. Don't leave his side until I get back, Ron. Not for a second. Only use this if Papa tells you to. I'll be back when I can." Without a second thought to the rest of the people standing around her she raced from the room, leaving doors swinging wide open in her wake. Pelting down hallways, she ran through Peeves and launched herself over staircase landings to get to her apartments, ripping her robes off as she ran, grateful there were no students in her path. She wrenched the door open, raced to her fireplace, and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the flames. Screaming an address, she found herself walking through the fire from Hogwarts into the Order's main sitting room.

Moody, Tonks, and Lupin stared at the disheveled woman gasping for air in shock. "Des?"

"Where's Malfoy?" The snarl in her tone caused Tonks to drop her teacup and Moody to jerk to attention. "Where is he?"

The trio looked at each other before answering. "He's still upstairs, Des. He doesn't leave for Azkaban for another two days." Moody and Lupin exchanged equally-puzzled glances. "What's wrong?"

Her only response was to storm out of the room and to begin marching up filthy staircases, no regard given to the screaming portrait of the former Black matriarch. Moody and Lupin both ran after her.

"Des? What the hell is going on? DES!"

She didn't wait for them to come unlock anything. The door blew off its hinges, showing a restrained Lucius Malfoy sitting in a chair, still recovering from the spell conducted on him five days previous. "Well, well, well. A visitor. How..."

He lost the ability to speak as Desi grabbed his robe by its collar, coming within a hair of choking him, jerking him to his feet. "You left something out when we last talked, Malfoy. Three guesses on what that was?"

He cackled at her. "Did something go wrong with you and your old flame, Desdemona? Did something not go according to your precious plan?"

"As a matter of fact, he's alive and well." She delighted in seeing a small flash of disappointment in his eyes. She twisted her grip on his robes a little more. "However, someone out there in this wide world now knows that you and he are in one piece and minus a little marking. Would you like to tell me now what you left out, Lucius, or do I get the distinct pleasure of chucking you through the fireplace to his little hideaway and letting him finish you off?"

The look in her eyes convinced him she was as serious as she could be. He appealed to the two men guarding the door, wands out. "She's insane! Surely you're not going to let some vengeful lunatic treat me like this?"

Moody and Lupin exchanged a quick look. "Actually," Lupin drawled with a sly smile on his face, "I was thinking of helping her. What about you, Mad-Eye?"

The auror nodded, silently glaring, his magical eye spinning.

Malfoy's frightened gaze shot back and forth from the men to the woman who held him by the throat. "Alright. Alright. Just let me go."

She threw him back down on the bed, holding her wand to his throat instead. "This better be good, Lucius, or I swear to every god ever known I will do things to you that will make all your past crimes child's play. Talk."

He believed her. "The Mark –he draws power from us through it. I'm the only one he told, he didn't trust any of the others to keep their mouths shut about it. That's why I didn't tell you when you asked all those questions. It's how he regained his strength when he returned. He can call us, he can punish us, and he can drain us through it."

Desi thought fast, pieces falling into place. "So, if he's drawing power from his Death Eaters through the mark, and the mark vanished, would that weaken him?" With no response from Malfoy, she glared at him. "But Death Eaters have died..."

"It's not the same." Malfoy rambled quickly in hopes of getting her to go. He was fairly sure now that she'd truly kill him if she didn't like his answers, and he'd rather face his chances with the dementors again than suffer her rage. "When we die, he can drain any remaining life energy and break the connection. But no one's simply removed the Mark before. I don't think he ever thought about the consequences. But if he uses it to get power from us, and that connection was gone... I don't remember the rest; it's all in a book in my study, but you'll never be able to read it..."

Desi lowered her wand. "You're lucky that those two men are here, Lucius, or there wouldn't be anything left for the dementors to play with when you arrive." With a flick of her wrist, the door reattached itself, locks repaired themselves, and the spell that kept Lucius Malfoy incapable of disapparating returned as Desdemona swept from the room.

Lupin grabbed her arm as she began to charge down the stairs again. "Des, dear, would you like to tell me what exactly that was all about?"

Desi looked at him, and the man behind them who stared in intense curiosity. "I transfigured Sev's mark today. A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione dragged Harry into the infirmary. Seems that lovely little scar of his let us in on the fact that Voldemort isn't exactly going to be happy with me."

As they continued down the stairs and back to the foyer, she related bits and pieces over her shoulder at her friend. "The Mark – it's how Voldemort controls and manipulates them all. Once he decided he was strong enough, he elected to finally eliminate Severus. When I intervened, he was weakened by the backlash. You know how that works; spells that backfire come back to haunt the caster. It's how this whole Harry and Voldemort drama began in the first place. When he figured out Lucius was captured, he tortured him to remind him to keep his mouth shut. When I transfigured Malfoy's mark five days ago, it either backlashed against Voldemort again or he thought we killed him and wasn't strong enough to channel the life energy. That's three spells of Voldemort's that I've managed to rebound back to him. Trust me; I'm likely not on his Christmas card list right now. "

They reached the foyer, and she grabbed another handful of powder, rambling the entire time. "I have to get back; I have no idea how Sev is doing, and Harry needs me..."

Lupin grabbed a handful as well. "I'm coming with you, Des. If you're on Voldemort's wish-list, Harry's in trouble, and your precious Sev's unconscious, then someone has to keep you grounded for the next few days."

"Remus, you can't..."

"Des, dammit, shut up. I'm coming with you. This affects the Order as much as it does you. Just accept it and let's go."


	12. Chapter Twelve

By the time Harry regained consciousness, he was greeted by not one, but two familiar faces. One was the woman who had become mentor and friend over the school year. The other was the man he'd come to know as friend and surrogate-uncle as well as teacher.

"Remus? Wha-what are you doing here?" He mumbled, his head still somewhat fuzzy and unclear. He shakingly reached for his glasses on the bedside table, finally finding them after Desi pushed them closer to his hand.

Lupin smiled widely, his arms holding a sack. "Well, you know how it is, Harry. The Order isn't really busy at this moment, the full moon will be here in a week, and my little sister here told me some story about you being laid up in the hospital wing. Well, naturally, I couldn't let you spend all your time here alone." He opened the sack and began handing items to the young wizard. "So, here's the chocolate, here's some contraband butterbeer, and here I am."

Desi chuckled slightly. "Just don't let Madam Pomfrey catch you with those in here, or you'll have hell to pay. And Remus, please do remember that there's a cauldron with your name on it in my classroom." She winked at her big brother. "Literally; there's a tag that says 'Property of Remus J. Lupin' right on the handle." She reached over the chocolate and looked Harry deeply in the eyes. "Seriously, Harry, are you alright?"

He nodded. "I already told Professor Dumbledore everything. Voldemort wasn't just angry; he was in pain. I think that's why I was blacking out. He felt like he was going in and out, same as me."

"Yeah, that would have been my fault, Harry. Indirectly, of course." Desi toyed with her fingernails as she said it. "I'm sorry. My toying with transfiguration seems to have triggered a response in your darling counterpart. He might try getting back at me through you, so be prepared. You did study occlumency, right?"

He nodded. "Snape began teaching me fifth year. When that didn't work out, Professor Dumbledore made sure he picked up some of the slack until Snape decided to teach me again. It's ok; I know everything I can know."

Desi sighed. "Thank the founders. I don't have the patience for either occlumency or legilimency. I'd lose my temper too easily trying to keep people out of my head."

Lupin laughed. "Des, I've seen you lose your temper over trying to boil an egg."

She nodded. "True."

A noise from across the room got her attention and she whirled her head around to look over her shoulder. On the other side of the infirmary, Snape tossed and turned, groaning in his unconscious state.

Lupin coughed to get Desi's attention. "If what Malfoy went through is any indication, he'll be like that for another day or so, then he'll be quiet for another day before he finally wakes up." He looked at his little sister, who appeared to be fighting exhaustion. "Des, he'll be alright. Get some sleep." He pointed to a bed next to Snape's. "I really doubt Madam Pomfrey will complain. Now, go take a nap before I feel compelled to put a sleeping charm on you."

"But I need to tell Papa..."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Des, love, I will go have a talk with Dumbledore. I was there and heard everything, remember? You filled me in on the way here. We'll wake you if we need you. How long have you been up?" When she shrugged her shoulders, he pointed to the empty bed again. "Sleep. Right there, since I know I'm not going to convince you to leave Sleeping Grumpy's side right now. If Dumbledore needs to talk to you, we'll wake you. Honestly. Now, go to sleep."

Her eyes were feeling exceedingly heavy. "Alright, alright. For crying out loud, I'll sleep. When you're done with Harry, go fetch Ron and have him stay here with him. Someone should stay with him in case Voldemort decides to get pissy again, and Ron's his best friend. Best choice." She wandered over to a bed and collapsed on it. Within seconds, she was asleep, leaving her best friend and student to share bottles of butterbeer and chocolate frogs.

* * *

"Are you sure what you overheard, Remus? That the transfiguration of the Dark Mark, the mark of the followers of Voldemort, into normal flesh again, has the effect of weakening Voldemort? That he gains strength from his followers through it?"

Lupin nodded. "That's what Malfoy said. You and I both know how effective Des is when it comes to getting someone to divulge things they'd rather keep silent. I'd trust it."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I remember that day when she hung her transfiguration tutor upside down from the top of the Astronomy tower until he confessed his permanent affliction."

Remus smiled at the memory.

"_You're not telling me something."_

"_Did your grandfather ever tell you that you're too smart for your own good, young lady?"_

_Her wand. A spoken incantation. The sensation of rising off the floor and suddenly sailing out the open window. _

"_Des! Des, this isn't funny!"_

_Spinning upside down. Seeing the ground beneath him. _

_Far beneath him._

"_DES!"_

"_Are you going to tell me or not, Remus John Lupin? Just because I'm lousy at transfiguration does not mean I slacked off in charms. You're keeping something from me, and I want to know what."_

"_Alright! If I tell you, will you let me back in? Without killing me?"_

"_Of course, silly."_

"_Fine! I'm a werewolf, Des. There? Happy? Can I come in now?"_

_Levitating back in the window. _

"_See. Was that so hard?"_

"_Dammit, Des, did you hear what I said?"_

"_Yes. You're a werewolf. That explains a lot. I thought it was something more important."_

Lupin sagged into a chair. As much as he'd admonished Des for not sleeping, he should have obeyed as well. Night watch and coming to keep Des sane and grounded while coping with the next few days were a bit too much to do on a handful of hours' sleep over three days. "Well, it's good to know, but what exactly can we do with it? Besides transfiguring any Death Eaters we happen to capture. Which, come to think of it, would be fun. I kinda like the whole agonizing in pain and torment affect."

The headmaster shot his former pupil a look of rebuke. "Remus."

The werewolf grinned. "It was a thought."

Dumbledore looked out the window to collect his thoughts. Below him, students swarmed over the grounds. Students he'd spent thirty years protecting from forces darker than their worst nightmares. Most students would never know how much he worked to keep them safe. The students that did know, he cherished. Those students were the ones closest to him. They gave him the reasons he needed to keep fighting.

No one knew how hard it was some days to not give in and let someone else take over.

Thoughts swirled in his mind faster than they did in a Pensieve. This information needed to be used efficiently, in a way to best support the Order. Simply knowing that the transfiguration weakened his nemesis wasn't enough. How to use the information to his advantage?

His eye caught the Sorting Hat, sitting high on its spot on the shelves. While it wouldn't offer him counsel while Lupin was here, seeing the familiar artifact gave him an idea.

A fool's idea, to be sure. But right now, it might be their best hope.

"Remus," Dumbledore called, waking the man up from the lethargy he was slipping into. "Tell me everything you know about the Dark Mark. Everything."

* * *

Waking up to Madam Pomfrey's touch on her shoulder, Desi realized she couldn't spend three days living in the infirmary. Before leaving, she spent a complete hour reassuring herself that Severus was alive and the Mark wasn't returning any time soon.

It broke her heart to see him unconsciously shuddering in occasional pain.

"_I hope this hurts."_

"_We both know it will."_

Sometimes, her sarcasm came back to bite her in the ass. She hated that. She detested how she just came out and said the first thing that came to mind. Of course, he did too.

And she loved him for it. Go figure.

Desi wandered out of the infirmary and down hallways and passages. She had no idea where her feet would carry her until she found herself outside a door with no memory of how she got there.

His door.

Well, he wasn't going to be using his apartments for a few days. Hell, they'd made their peace weeks ago, and she'd yet to be made welcome in his apartments, while he had near-full reign over hers. Time to rectify that. Holding her breath, she turned the doorknob and slipped in the doorway.

The first thing that dawned on her was how dark the rooms were. Did the man have an allergy to sunlight or something? With a gesture, light spilled from candles in every corner of the room. Well, it was something at least.

The second thing that dawned on her was the décor. Seriously, how much black did a man need to use in decorating? The leather couch in the main room was cracking in a few spots, but as she sank down on it, she adored it. Completely comfortable and perfectly worn. Piled on the coffee table and side tables were books, haphazardly stacked and on a range of topics from potions recipes to historical pieces of wizards of the older ages. A worn woolen blanket covered one couch arm, obviously there to ward off chills when reading too late at night.

He'd always loved to read.

Desdemona rose and scanned the books on the shelves along either side of the fireplace. Among the usual tomes of academia and interests, a battered and yellowing paperback jumped out at her, stopping her heart for a second and causing her to catch her breath.

_The Once and Future King._

He'd kept it all these years. Kept the book that a thirteen old girl gifted him with one Christmas. It had been her favorite book at the time. A Muggle book, to be sure, but one her parents had loved. It seemed he had as well.

He'd kept it.

She kept wandering his rooms, feeling less entitled and more like a voyeur. Little clues as to his isolated lifestyle kept popping up; little in the way of dishes or furniture for another person to share time here. In fact, with the exception of the books and the worn couch, it was as if he barely used these apartments. Over and over, a voice in her head told her to leave. She kept ignoring it.

Opening a door at the end of the short hallway, she came across his bedroom. Once again, she shook her head at the color theme. Granted, she was partial to deep reds and blues, but it wasn't the only color going on. More candles in sconces on the walls. No mirror over the bare dresser. She dared herself into opening his closet, and rolled her eyes at the wardrobe. She really needed to talk to him about this monochromatic thing. As this completely silly thought went through her mind, something on a shelf on the wall gleamed in the candlelight, catching the corner of Desi's eye. She walked over and audibly gasped.

A perfect black rose sat in a crystal vase.

"_What do you want, Desi?"_

_She didn't let the gruffness in his voice bother her. It hadn't for two years. The wind rustled the leaves overhead on the tree he was sitting against. She dropped something between the pages of the book he'd been engrossed in for the last hour._

_He rolled his eyes. "What's this?"_

_She gave him a grin with pride shining in her eyes. "Look! I managed color transfigurations today. I took a white rose and made it black. Truly black, Sev! Black roses don't even exist in nature!"_

_He twirled it in his fingers and glared. "Yay. A flower. Something that'll just whither away and die in a few days. Thanks, Desi." He went back to his book._

_She sighed and grabbed the book from his hands. "It won't. I put a preservation charm on it. I want you to keep it, Sev. I know how much you like black." She gave him the once-over with her eyes, noting the casual clothes he was wearing. _

"_Why do you insist on giving me stuff, Desi?"_

"_Because, you thick dolt, I love you. I keep telling you that."_

"_And I keep telling you that you don't."_

"_I'm almost fourteen, Sev. I've known you and your grumpiness for two years. In all that time, I think I'd have figured out if I don't love you. Since I haven't, it must mean I do."_

_He stood up, closing the book and clenching the rose. "Whatever, Desi. You'll learn."_

_Before he could escape, she grabbed the front of his robes, pulled him down, and kissed him. As she released him, she laughed at his thunderstruck expression._

"_Whatever, Sev. You'll learn."_

He'd kept it. It looked just as it had that day. Their first kiss. Well, her first kiss at any rate. He had been too shocked to react. Did that qualify?

The loneliness hit her, and she sat down on his bed in an effort to stop herself from hitting the floor. Her hands felt the texture of the black cashmere blanket covering the linens below. Absent-mindedly, she clutched a pillow to her chest, catching a familiar scent.

Pine needles. Just like the trees he always studied under. The three by the lake.

Tears began to fall without warning, echoing the pain in her chest.

She cried herself to sleep, curled in a ball on top of black cashmere, her fears and heartache her only companionship.

* * *

The last two days had taken a toll on Desdemona Drecorum. Between teaching most of the Defense Against Dark Arts classes (since it WAS her fault their teacher was unconscious) as well as Potions, running into the infirmary every hour to check on his condition, and spending as much time with Remus as she could while he was here at Hogwarts, she wasn't sleeping more than a couple of hours a night. She was amazed at how different she looked after two days. Her hair was in a perpetual tail, dark circles began to form under her eyes, and her shoulders sagged constantly. She honestly couldn't recall her last meal, and her robes began to hang on her lifelessly.

In other words, she looked about as good as the patient she kept visiting.

"Des, love, you need to eat something."

The quiet voiced echoed in her ears as she struggled to stay awake, trying desperately to get everything done. Her living room was a wreck; the couch still had a blanket and pillow from where Remus had been sleeping, papers covered a small table, and there were books just sitting in piles on the floor.

She looked up and smiled weakly. "Thanks. I'm not hungry."

Remus grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet with little effort. "Yes, you are. Here, at least drink this." He put a large cup in her hands, the heat seeping into her hands, and directed her to her couch, moving aside the bedding haphazardly. "It's soup. Nothing more. Just drink some of that and fall asleep, Des. You haven't been taking care of yourself, and I refuse to watch you turn yourself into a wraith."

"Ok, ok. I'll eat something. Gods, when did Papa adopt you into the family?" Bringing the cup to her lips, she took a small sip. Then another. Then a third. Within moments, the cup was empty, and her eyelids were growing heavy.

"Time to get some sleep, little sis." Remus tried to get her to stand up so she could sleep in her own room, but she steadfastly refused. "Not sleepy." Shaking her head stubbornly, he gave in and sat down next to her.

"Des, why are you doing this to yourself?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "If I'm busy, if I'm getting everything done, I do not have to think about everything else, Remus. I don't have to think about how I screwed up."

"What in the name of the founders are you even talking about, Des? Screwed up how?"

Desi shuddered. "If I'd just told him all those years ago...if I'd just given him a reason to not do it, none of this would have happened. He would never have gotten that mark. He wouldn't be lying in the hospital right now. I would never have had to go to America. Things would be so different."

He reached for her hands, took the cup from them and set it on the table in front of them, and pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. "Des, you can't think that way. Trust me; all it'll do is eat at you. Things happen for a reason. Killing yourself now by taking on all the responsibility will not change anything. Please, little sis. Get some sleep."

She fell asleep moments later, her best friend still holding her.

Just like another night, long ago.

"_Remus?" The soft voice whispered into the Common Room from the door to the girl's dormitories. "It's three in the morning. What are you two doing here?"_

"_It's ok, Lily. I was going to wake her up in a second." Looking up into the kind green eyes he'd known for years. His best friend's girlfriend. It almost didn't seem fair._

"_Is she ok?" Lily kneeling beside the couch, looking at the younger girl curled up on the couch, her head resting in her friend's lap, her face still red from crying. "I know she hasn't been adjusting well, but..."_

"_Would you be? Would you be ok if James broke your heart and you got thrown into a different house all in the same night?"_

"_Her heart? Don't tell me she actually was in love with Severus."_

_A nod. "I tried to warn her he'd hurt her in the end, but she's definitely a force all her own, Lily." A sigh. "I'll wake her up; I know you're supposed to be doing rounds. I don't want to get you in trouble." _

_Smoothing back the auburn hair absently. _

_Lily's eyes staring into his own. "Moony, don't."_

"_Don't what, Lily?"_

"_Don't try to replace him for her. If you're right, and he broke her heart, the last thing she needs is someone trying to fix it for her. You've been her friend and big brother for years, Remus. Don't change that now. She needs you."_

_Silence._

"_Don't worry, Lily. I promise I won't make the same mistake twice."_

_Lily's eyes filling with tears. "Remus...I'm sorry."_

_Closing his eyes from the sight of both girls. "Lily, you have nothing to be sorry for. It's my fault. You weren't the one seeing what was never there."_

_Opening them minutes later. Lily gone._

"_Des, wake up; you need to go to your room."_

_Blue eyes rimmed with red. A kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Remus. For everything. You mean the world to me, big brother."_

_His heart aching one more time._

Remus slowly slid himself out from under Desdemona's sleeping form, laying her head on the pillow and covering her with the blanket. She never once stirred. Bending down, Remus kissed her lightly on her forehead and left her curled on the couch, collapsing on her bed to finally fall asleep, his thoughts flying through his mind.

He loved her. He always would. But he knew years ago it was never meant to be.

The problem was, he couldn't remember anymore which girl he once loved. The memories seemed so distant now. So far away.

* * *

By the end of the third day, Severus was still unconscious, although he hadn't been thrashing as much, Madam Pomfrey noted. However, she commented to Remus Lupin behind Desi's back, his counterpart was worrying herself into a hospital bed of her own. He'd gotten her to sleep for four hours and to eat a meal. It was more than anyone else in the castle had accomplished. She still thought she could be in three places at once, and acted like it on every available chance. Even her first-year students could see a difference.

That night, she found herself confronted by two men and a student. A cough behind her jerked her out of the mental fog she was in as she sat by his bedside until Poppy kicked her out for yet another night. Turning, she faced Lupin, Dumbledore, and Potter. All three were there with one unified purpose.

"Desdemona, go to bed." Her grandfather implored her with love shining in his eyes. "You're not going to make him regain consciousness by worrying yourself sick. Please child. Get some rest."

"Papa, I'll be fine. I'm just a little tired. Besides, what if he wakes up? He needs me."

It was Lupin's turn. "Des, sweetheart, if he wakes up, someone can come get you. Dumbledore's right, you're not making a difference. You're barely awake as it is. Go get some sleep; I'll teach all of the Defense classes tomorrow. I think I remember the subject material."

The offer was tempting, she hated to admit. Besides, if he took over the classes, she could spend more time here. "I still have Potions..."

Harry finally spoke up. "We'll be fine without you for a day. I asked around today, after the three of us talked about how concerned we all are. Some of the NEWT level students offered to cover the younger levels. And Hermione can probably cover the NEWT level. Please, Professor. Get some sleep; we're worried about you."

Desi seethed in her exhaustion, which meant it wasn't as major of an explosion as usual. "So? You talked about it? Everyone's conferenced and discussed what's in my best interests? My grandfather, my big brother, and my...well, Harry, take your pick: nephew? Second cousin once removed? I'm so very glad the three of you have worked this out for me. Did it occur to you that I'm perfectly happy worrying myself sick?"

Her grandfather had only one word to say to her. "Temper."

Desi gave a resigned sigh. They were right; her presence wasn't going to make any major changes in the sphere of existence. Right now, she was grateful Remus had chosen to stay; she should have let him take all of the Defense classes in the first place and not just the first and second years, but she hadn't want to upset Severus with that fact when he woke. "You sure you can take Defense?" At Lupin's nod, she looked at Harry. "I'll cover NEWT level Potions and leave my lesson plans for Hermione and whoever else is helping. You sure the rest of the years are covered?" He nodded as well. She then turned to her grandfather. "If he needs anything..."

He smiled at his stubborn little granddaughter. "I'll send Fawkes to get you."

She gave the man in the bed one more glance before letting go of his hand and walking away. "Fine. I'll see everyone in the morning."

For yet another, her feet found their way to his rooms instead of her own. She'd offered Remus her apartments when he made it clear he was staying until Severus awoke, and except for the nap she took on her own couch the night before, if she'd slept at all, it had been there. It made her feel closer to him.

A weary word lit candles everywhere; with all the blackness in the room, a little light comforted her. She slipped from her robes, remaining in her typical jeans and a sweater, and collapsed on the cracked leather couch where she'd taken to sleeping, wrapped in the cashmere blanket from his bed.

Within seconds, she was asleep.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Right before he'd fallen unconscious, Severus had hoped the first sight he'd see when he opened his eyes was either Desi staring back at him or an obvious sign he'd died and gone on to the world beyond.

Instead, he got a werewolf.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Welcome to the world of the living, Severus." Lupin rolled his eyes at the greeting he'd just received, marked his place in his book with a slip of parchment, and placed it on a side table. What a wonderful greeting from a man who had just regained consciousness. He still didn't get what Des saw in him. The man was disagreeable and rude and argumentative...

...and inexplicably loyal and self-sacrificing, he did have to admit. He'd been there when he turned from Voldemort all those years ago. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it.

Still didn't explain why his little sister fancied the man.

"_Why, Des? Twenty-five years you spent in America. I know damned good and well you didn't spend them all celibate and in waiting for your one true love. Why open this door again? Hasn't he brought you enough pain?"_

"_I can't explain it, Remus, to you or anyone else. I hardly get it myself. There's just something about him that pulls me in. He intrigues me, he fascinates me, and frankly, he just makes me feel complete. Gods, I sound like a bad Muggle romance novel."_

"_And what if he breaks your heart all over again, Des? I can't sit and watch him do that to you a second time. I won't. I'll make him join the monthly moonwatchers membership before I let him hurt you again."_

"_It's different this time around."_

"_How so? Besides the obvious age difference and the fact that he's not beating for the other team anymore?"_

"_Last time, he never said he loved me."_

The problem with that logic was simple. Remus Lupin didn't think he was capable of that particular emotion.

Severus strained to push himself into a sitting position, his left arm still feeling like it'd been removed and reattached with only a rusty knife and a dull needle. "Where's Desi?"

"Probably asleep in your apartments again. We sent her to bed a few hours ago since she looked less lively than you. She's been spending what little free time she's allowed herself there the last few days. Since you weren't exactly in the state of mind to disagree with her, she kipped there so I could have a place to sleep. Somehow, she thought you'd appreciate me keeping out of your rooms." Lupin offered the patient a glass of water.

He gulped it down, and then tried to get out of the hospital bed.

It didn't exactly happen easily.

Lupin let him struggle, the stubborn idiot. "You've been unconscious for three days. Don't you think you should take it easy?"

Snape shot him an evil glance.

Lupin nodded. He truly hadn't expected anything but stubbornness and pride from the greasy-haired git. Merlin's Beard, the man couldn't bend enough to ask for a little help, could he? "Ok, ok. Here, drink this." He offered the near-invalid a goblet filled with a steaming brew. "Des has had a cauldron of this made up since I got here and kept a warming spell on the cup. Said it'll help give you back some strength when you woke up."

Snape downed the liquid in one long gulp, grimacing at the taste. The longer the strengthening potion steeped, the stronger it got, but the worse the taste grew.

_Why dilute a potion with honey or sugar just to make it go down smoother? _

Desi had been the one to explain that concept to him her first year as a student, when he kept failing at this same potion during OWL studies. What gave a girl barely twelve the right to be better at the subject than him?

The taste ensured it would be effective. Within seconds he felt somewhat awake and capable of walking, which was more than he'd felt before. Rising from the bed he'd occupied for three whole days, he headed for the door without so much as a backward glance to the man who'd sat vigil over him for who-knew how long.

"Not so fast, Your Highness." Lupin stopped him. "Before you head to your lady love, Dumbledore wants a talk. With the three of us."

Snape glared at him. "I thought you said Desi was sleeping..."

Lupin shrugged. "I did. He meant you, me, and Harry. The second you woke up, he said."

Snape rubbed his temples. This wasn't what he'd bargained for when he'd opened his eyes. All he wanted was to go hole up in his rooms for a while and continue to recover from the transfiguration, not have a conference with wonder-child Potter and the man chomping at the bit to deliver a bite to his hide at the first opportune moment. His arm still hurt and the effects of the potion weren't going to last longer than an hour or so.

However, Dumbledore wasn't a fool. If he intended to have a meeting the moment he regained consciousness, there had to be a reason.

"Where is he?"

Lupin rose from his chair, where he'd sat waiting for Snape to wake. Not where he would have chosen to spend the night, but Dumbledore had been firm on this point. Someone had to sit by to make sure he woke and was relatively unharmed from the transfiguration. Since Des had gone to bed, the pleasure of spending an evening by the unconscious man's side fell to him. "In his study."

* * *

An hour later, Severus was finally allowed to leave the headmaster's office, his head spinning with the conversation that had just taken place. All he could think was how unhappy Dumbledore's line of thinking was going to make Desi.

"_You cannot be serious, Headmaster."_

"_For once, Severus, I am completely and totally serious."_

"_Do you have any idea how inane this plan is? And I'm supposed to go along with it?"_

"_Are you saying that because you truly disapprove of it, Severus? Or are you afraid of the consequences you will pay where my granddaughter is concerned?"_

_Hearing the werewolf hide a snicker as, for the first time in years, the pallor in his face gave way to a pale shade of red._

"_I thought as much. While I am gratified to know that Desdemona's opinions and happiness mean so much to you, Severus, I sadly cannot let them sway my judgment in this manner. Do you have any genuine objections?"_

"_None that will convince you not to do this, Headmaster. I've given you all the reasons why this may not be wise."_

"_And I appreciate your candor, Severus. You, of all the members of the Order, know the severity of what I am about to ask of you all."_

"_And you, Headmaster, know the severity of your granddaughter's likely reaction."_

"_Sadly, Severus, I do. And I hope that one day she will forgive me for it."_

He was going to have to be there when he discussed the plan with her. Damn.

There were easier ways to die.

Sighing deeply, he got up the courage to open his own apartment door, praying she was sleeping, as Lupin suggested she would be.

A few candles still sputtered in their sconces on his walls, but most had died out. From the faint remnants of candlelight, he could make out glimmers of auburn mixed in with the black from his couch and blanket. She's wrapped herself tightly in the fabric, clutching a pillow to her chest, her body rising and falling from the deep breathing of sleep.

Part of him was surprised to find her there; why didn't she simply sleep in the bed in the other room?

Why in the hell did she like sleeping on couches in the first place?

Some things were never meant to be understood, he thought. Moving the coffee table out of his way, he gathered her up in his arms, moving slowly so as to not wake her, and using his last dregs of strength, carried her into his room. Settling her on the bed, pillows supporting her head and still wrapped in the blanket, he curled up next to her and closed his eyes, too tired to even remove his shoes.

* * *

"You want to do WHAT?"

Snape cringed.

He wasn't the only person in the room who reacted in the same way.

He'd known this wasn't going to be a good conversation. How did three grown men and one damn-near-there student find themselves threatened by a slender witch who stood just over five feet tall?

Right then and there, Severus Snape would have given anything for a time-turner. Anything to let him be back in his rooms only two hours before, waking up next to a much-more-agreeable version of the woman laying beside him who had stared back at him with elation shining in her eyes and an impish smile on her lips.

Albus Dumbledore returned his granddaughter's ire with serenity. He'd known it was a good idea to seal his office with the Imperturbable Charm. Desdemona's voice carried, particularly when it reached certain volumes. Severus had warned him last night she wasn't going to like this plan; unfortunately he had been right.

"We believe that we can find a way to use our knowledge of the Dark Mark to our benefit, possibly by adapting it for our own use."

The gates of Hell itself broke loose and unleashed a demon personified in auburn hair, flashing blue eyes, and wildly-gesticulating hands.

"Are you INSANE? Have you completely lost your damned mind, Papa? You want to ADAPT the Dark Mark into something for the Order?" She glared at the rest of the people in the room. "I know you weren't in on this. You were unconscious for three days." Severus cringed again. She spun to face Lupin. "Please tell me you didn't side with him on this idiotic idea?"

Lupin bit his lip. "Well...I helped with the idea formation, yes."

She roared. "You did WHAT? Have you all been hit one too many times with memory charms? You want to take the Dark Mark, which we now know is even more vile, twisted, and repulsive than we knew before, and turn it into something for the Order to use? Am I the only person in the room thinking?" She began rubbing her temples and pacing. "This is a bad dream. It's only a bad dream..."

Harry braved her ire and pinched her arm, causing her to yelp and stop her pacing. "Sorry, Professor. It's not a dream. We've been discussing it for the last few days..."

"Behind my back!?" Desi was shaking in anger. "You've been plotting this behind my back for three days?" When Lupin and Potter nodded, she actually yanked on fistfuls of her hair for lack of anything else. "So, not only have the three of you been devising a way to work this completely twisted spell to your own advantage, but you didn't feel you could trust me to help?"

Remus swore under his breath, crossed the three steps' distance between him and his sister, grabbed Des by her shoulders and physically shook her. It was either that or slap her, and given Snape's temperament, that wasn't the wisest course of action. "Damn it to hell, Des, I know you have a temper, but for once, could you just try to rein it in? Would you shut up for five seconds and just listen to us? We weren't doing this behind your back; you were busy enough as it was with two subjects and checking up on Rip Van Winkle over there every hour on the hour. You didn't need us asking to help with a pet project as well." He jerked his head in Snape's direction, who shot him a look of promised death. "Besides, we knew you wouldn't be thrilled."

She glared at him, but for the first time in the last ten minutes, managed to control the volume of her voice. "Thrilled? I'm disgusted with the three of you." She shook herself out of Lupin's grasp, glaring at the trio in question. "Hell's bells, how did the three of you concoct this plan anyway? And didn't you all just witness the aftermath of such an option? Severus just spent three days unconscious to get rid of the thrice-bedamned mark, and now you're contemplating making one of your own? My Gods, doesn't he give you every reason why this is a bad idea? Why don't you ask him what he thinks! Surely if someone in this bloody room is going to have the intellect to agree with me, it's him." She turned, heaving with anger, to wait for his commentary to begin. Suddenly, it dawned on her that the one person who should be agreeing with her was keeping silent. Too silent. "Sev?"

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Why did she have to look at him like that? He swallowed hard. "They told me about this last night when I woke up. Given that I'm the expert in the room on the topic, they wanted my viewpoint." He unconsciously rubbed his left arm, which still ached, but tolerably now. "Not the greatest idea imaginable, but not the worst."

Desi stopped her thunderous rant in her shocked silence.

If looks could kill...

Dumbledore took the opening his granddaughter's silence afforded him. "Desdemona, I'd appreciate it if you moderated your language. Now, as I was saying, now that we have a fuller understanding of the mark and all its effects, we cannot ignore the fact that some of the benefits overweigh the risks. For example, knowing the whereabouts of all members at once..."

"Which can be done with a Venisumere Charm..."

"Or to be able to call them to us when vitally necessary..."

"As Miss Granger proved two years ago, a Protean Charm on a physical object can..."

"Or to be able to communicate with them on an empathic level..."

That one had her stumped.

Dumbledore looked at his granddaughter with eyes filled with age and wisdom. "Desdemona, we're not talking about using the Mark in the same way that Voldemort has. There is not a single member of the Order who would abuse such a tool, and regardless, if they do not know how to abuse it, the thought will likely not come to them. However, given what we know about it, if we can replicate the effects, it could prove a most invaluable source of strength and cohesiveness for us all."

She snorted and rolled her eyes Heaven-ward. "Oh, and have we all forgotten one teeny-tiny, small, insignificant yet awesomely-important thing? The Mark connects all of them to HIM, Papa! They're all linked through one person. One. This isn't a democratic little spell. It's control and manipulation and exploitation, pure and simple."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am well aware of that, Desdemona. As will ours."

Desi stopped cold. Something told her she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. "And who will be the focus?"

Harry rose his hand, his arms trembling but his green eyes steady and true.

Desi paled. "You can't be serious, Papa."

Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily. "I am very serious, Desdemona. More so than I think you're giving me credit for being."

"He's only seventeen!"

"And the one who will be at the center of it all. That much is inevitable, and has already been seen. Do you think we can shelter him forever?"

"Do you really think he deserves that burden on top of everything else?"

"Do you think he cannot handle it?"

"I don't think he should have to!"

Snape coughed. The quarrelling family members jumped and turned to face him.

_What am I about to do?_

He took a deep breath, trying to displace the feeling he was about to face an executioner. "The important question shouldn't be does he deserve this or not. It should be whether or not he can carry the burden. I've seen what that power can do to someone; the ability to play God is not something that should be taken lightly. However, the ability for Potter to be able to keep connected to the rest of the Order in a moment's notice could be highly beneficial given his knack for finding trouble. He's exceptionally well-versed in that field, after all, and the walls of this castle cannot shield him much longer."

Desi's jaw fell. "You're for this? You're actually for this? I thought you were joking a moment ago. You're actually supporting the idea that we do something this insane and binding? There's no going back..."

"Yes there is. My arm's proof."

"That's not what I meant, you twit. If we do this, it's the end of Harry's innocence...."

"What innocence?"

"The precious little he's been able to hang onto for the last six years!" Desi wasn't angry; she was livid. She could see Harry blindly walking into such a plan, but for Remus and Severus to allow it...and what about Papa? "Is it our duty to heap more and more onto his shoulders? To expect him to do this? What in the hell is everyone thinking? Or are you?"

"Do I get to say something here?" Harry seethed through clenched teeth. "Or is everyone going to bicker around me and decide my fate for me?"

Desi shut up, turning despair filled eyes toward him.

Harry looked down at fists he didn't know he'd made. Letting go, he sighed and looked around the room. "I'm not exactly thrilled with this plan. It scares me to think of members of the Order carrying a permanent mark on their arms just to come to my aid or beck and call, and it scares me even more to know that some of those arms belong to people I care a great deal about. But just because they'd be similar to the Dark Mark doesn't mean they'd be identical. Professor Dumbledore thinks the two can be different. And he said they can be made into a two-way thing; it wouldn't be just me who could call the Order, I'd just be the main person. I don't know what I think; I see both sides. However, I don't want this idea to cause the four of you to scream back and forth and debate about the right and wrong of it all."

Desi sagged her shoulders and sighed deeply. "Alright. Let's pretend for five seconds that I don't see anything but heartache and destruction at the end of this road and that I actually see its merit. Why does it have to be some form of a mark? Why can't it be an object? A pendant or ring? Something less permanent and binding? Why a mark?"

Lupin chose to be the one to answer. "Because the Mark can't be taken away from anyone. Not easily, at any rate. What if someone gets captured? A ring or a pendant can be stolen or destroyed. The mark isn't as susceptible to tampering. It's likely why you-know-who chose it in the first place."

She sat down on the couch, holding her head in her hands. "I was afraid you were going to say that." Resignation and a deep sorrow rang in her soft voice. "So, the three of you," she said as she pointed to her grandfather, best friend, and resident love-of-her-life, "think this is a good idea?"

They nodded. She sighed again.

"And you, Harry?"

He swallowed. "I don't know. I wanted to hear what you thought."

"Once again, I was afraid you were going to say that." She rubbed her face and pulled back her hair, tying it with a spare ribbon from her pocket. "I still think it's a damn fool idea. I think this could backfire horribly. I even think it's the most rash and idiotic plan my grandfather has had in my lifetime. However," she groaned, closing her eyes and rolling back her head, "maybe you're right. Maybe the benefits do outweigh the risks. I'm just not thrilled about having a...a...thing on my arm for any length of time."

"You think I am?" Severus finally spoke up again. "I'm not exactly crazy about this plan, either, but Dumbledore has made some good arguments. And Lupin too, I suppose." He grudgingly nodded to the man in the corner. "I think everyone in the Order is going to be apprehensive about this. And that, frankly, is more of a show of conscience than any of the Death Eaters had. Myself included."

The shadow that crept across his face made her catch her breath, her heart aching from the sight. "And is there any clue as to how the rest of the Order feels about this?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I've discussed this with some of the higher members, yes."

She rolled her eyes. "Please tell me cooler heads than yours have prevailed."

He shook his head. "Actually, Alastor was overwhelmed by the vigilance and tactical advantage it would give us. He has always hated the fact that Voldemort always had a means of communication and organization that we had yet to develop."

Desi stared at her grandfather in dumbfounded shock. "You're kidding. Mad-Eye Moody agreed with this insane plan?" At a nod, she began rubbing her temples again, trying to shake the oncoming headache. Bloody Hell, if Mad-Eye agreed, there wasn't a way in the world she was going to stop this insanity from going forward. She looked up at the four faces staring back at her. "Well, what's stopping this from becoming a reality?"

Lupin drawled. "Oh, not much. Just the knowledge of how you-know-who did it to begin with. And since Lucius Malfoy is now out of our domicile and in the loving companionship of Azkaban's finest, we don't know where to get that information."

Desi smiled; not a real smile, but one that reminded Severus of a person on the brink of madness. "That one I might be able to rectify. But I'm still not a fan of this."

Her grandfather shot her a look that, in one second, allowed her to see the strain that this conversation had taken on him, causing her to regret much of what she'd said. "No one is, Desdemona. But sometimes evil can be turned to serve good."

To their credit, no one looked over at the man in the corner.

* * *

"You want to do WHAT?"

Snape rolled his eyes. Not again...

Desdemona stared at Draco Malfoy from her desk, as the young man's Head of House lurked in the shadows behind her. "It's not so much what I want to do as what the Order wants to do. We need your help to find the information that tells us how."

He glared at her through strands of white-blonde hair covering one eye. Professor Drecorum had damn near snatched him off his broom for this conference. Forget the fact that Slytherin had a Quidditch match in a week and she'd dragged him off the pitch. Forget that he still wore his practice robes, and desperately wanted nothing but a shower and to hide in his dorm. Forget that he'd already told Snape he wasn't turning into some do-good Potter tag-along.

Forget the voice inside his head telling him Drecorum didn't care.

"What do you want me to do?"

She sighed and pushed herself away from her desk. "Your father mentioned to me that he had the secrets to Voldemort's spells, written in a book that I'd never be able to read in a lifetime. However, I have the sickening feeling that you could. If I know Lucius, he'd have protected it so none but someone of his blood would be able to read it. Since you're his son..."

Draco swallowed. He knew exactly which book Drecorum was talking about. His father had shown it to him once, right before he went to Hogwarts for the first time. That summer day when his father had first spoken to him like a human being and not a possession. That day when he assured Draco his power and success would pass from father to son one day, when Draco followed in his stead. How proud Lucius had been when his only son found his way into Slytherin. How proud when he'd begun to show the same ruthless and manipulative qualities he himself had portrayed in his youth. How proud he'd been that night when he showed up at the school, waiting to take his son and heir to Hogsmeade.

Sometimes, Draco hated what he'd almost become. What his father had become.

He didn't want a predestined life. He wanted to write his own history.

And the professors confronting him now were offering him that chance.

He released his breath forcefully, causing some of his hair to fly out of his eyes. With a furrow in his brow that made Desi kick herself for placing there, he looked her square in the eyes.

"When do you want to go get it?"

Desi closed her eyes for a moment, quieting the inner rage she was feeling. This made the second young man she'd seen grow older than his years today alone. She hated doing it. "When will your mother likely not be home? If we're to go traipsing about lovely Malfoy Manor, I'd like to do so without running into someone who'd consider herself honored to murder me."

Draco actually doubted that sentiment, but didn't correct it. His mother was normally very withdrawn and quiet, but for some inexplicable reason, she loved his father completely. While he was at an age now where he could appreciate that his mother was less than perfect, he also knew she was far from the evil of his father. "I know she usually tries to visit him at Azkaban on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in the afternoon. They won't let her go everyday."

Desi nodded. "Tuesday sounds perfect."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Tuesday morning came too soon. The dreary sky and the drizzling rain outside offered the promise of misery and despair.

It wasn't particularly cheery inside Desi's apartments, either.

"I'm going."

"No, you're not, Sev."

"Like hell I'm not."

Desi threw a pillow across her bedroom. Sitting cross-legged on her newly-made bed, she glared at the man who'd been her target. "Sev, for the thirty-second time this morning, you're not going. I'm going, Draco's going for obvious reasons, and that's really about it. The sooner we're in, the sooner we're out. And besides, someone has to cover a couple of my classes."

He threw the pillow back at her, frustration and ire clearly evident on his sharp face. Black eyes flashed in anger. "Then have Miss Granger substitute for you again. She's the universal know-it-all, let her cover those classes."

She rolled her eyes and set the pillow behind her, her hands then going to the back of her head to mechanically braid her auburn locks. "First of all, I still fail to see why you, of all people, hate Miss Granger, considering you were just like her back in the day. I seem to recall a snide, lanky know-it-all boy I chased all over school grounds in my youth. You were just as insufferable in your knowledge of everything as you claim she is, and frankly, I just don't understand the animosity, unless it's just because she wears scarlet and not emerald. Secondly, oh wise one, if you come scampering with me all over Lucius' darling estate and Miss Granger keeps students from blowing up my classroom, then who will cover your Defense classes?"

"They can take the damned day off!" The room was too small to roar at her like he wanted, and there was too much furniture to allow him to pace the way he wished. Why did women need a dresser and a bureau and a little table with a mirror anyway? And drawing comparisons between himself and that frizzy-haired teacher's pet was completely absurd. "I'm going with you. I've been in that house, you haven't. I know..."

"Not half as much about that house as Draco Malfoy himself, you thick-headed man!" She cursed the fact that she forgot to grab a hair tie or ribbon before getting her hands full of thick, stubborn, wavy hair that didn't appreciate the intricacy of French braiding. She also cursed the fact that she couldn't throw anything at him right this second. Desi was growing quite used to tossing pillows at the obstinate man before her on a regular basis. It beat the heavier and more fragile items in the room, and didn't leave as big a mess.

"Then you stay and I'll go."

"Damn it to the lowest level of Hell, Sev, I'm going and that's that. I know you; you'll storm around the house and make who-knows what kind of a mess. At least I'll be able to sneak around like we'll need to."

Damn that woman, if she wasn't so damned perfect...

"And you trust an eighteen year old boy to wind you through whatever Dark protections that lunatic put on his house..."

"Last I recalled, Severus Snape, I was the one originally hired for Defense Against the Dark Arts instruction! I think I can maneuver a trap or two." Some days, there was no getting through to him. "Why can't you let down your 'hero of the day' persona for five minutes and just let me do this? For crying out loud, I'm a woman, not some porcelain doll."

"Trust me; I know that one a little too well." He snarled back at her. "I just have a bad feeling about this."

She finally finished the braid and reached over to the nightstand to grab a hair tie. Securing her hairstyle, she unfolded herself from her twisted seated position and stood up, stretching her back while glaring at Severus. "Maybe you need to visit Trelawney then. I'm sure she'd be happy to interpret your 'bad feeling' for you. Maybe then you'll find the justification for why this isn't a good plan; I'm sure she'll see death and danger in every nuance of your stubborn arrogance."

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. "Damn it, Desi. I'm not being sexist and I'm not being stupid. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Awww, you care."

"I hate your sarcasm." He let go of her, dropping his arms to his sides and rolling his eyes.

"Circe's song, why in hell are we fighting about this?" Desi rubbed her temples, already feeling a headache coming on. "I'll be there for an hour at the most, Sev. I'll have Draco there to help me walk through all the hallways and evil torture chambers and whatever else Lucius ever did to his home. I'll be fine. I just don't understand your stance on this."

Severus stared down at her, his anger melting into slight annoyance. He hated her hair when she braided it back like that. It made her look colder, more controlling somehow, than when it framed her face and flew every which way. Braided back, he couldn't run his fingers through it when he held her...

_For the love of Wizardry, she's going off to sneak around Malfoy Manor like a thief and you're waxing sentimental about her hair?! _

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Desi. That's all. I don't like this plan; too many things could go wrong, and I simply don't like it."

Her response was to stand on tiptoe and wind her arms behind his neck. "I love you too, Sev."

* * *

An hour later, he questioned that sentiment. "Why's he going with you?" Severus' annoyance level shot from simple to extreme as he saw Harry Potter step through the Headmaster's door.

Desi rolled her eyes. "He begged Papa to go. What was I supposed to do, say no?"

"Yes."

Potter and Malfoy both averted their eyes as the two bickered by the fireplace.

Desi grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him in close. In a harsh whisper, she answered him. "Papa thinks having him there will keep Draco in check. Instead of getting upset about his father and everything going on in his life right now, he'll focus his ire on Harry and their petty bickering. Besides, an extra pair of eyes may be useful, and even you have to admit Harry's not bad at handling a hex or two. Alright?"

"I don't like it, but you're not giving me a choice, are you?" As she shook her head, he straightened himself and glared at both young men. "If anything happens to her..."

"I'll be fine. Alright, Draco. You lead the way."

* * *

The second she stepped from the fireplace into the Malfoy sitting room, Sev's bad feeling crawled into her own skin. The house was eerily quiet, and the drawn curtains allowed in no light. Granted, she knew Draco's mother was supposed to be out, but there should have been house elves or servants. She shivered in the silence. Looking over at Draco, she nodded. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, time for the grand tour. Where do we go?"

Draco took them from the sitting room to a side door, and then led them down the servants' passages, which he said were less likely to be laced with spells and traps, to the study. In a room covered in a thin layer of dust, books along the walls and a humidor on a cherry wood desk, Draco walked over to a particular shelf and removed a book. Instantly, a secret panel slid away, showing a small cupboard that looked as if it hadn't been opened in years.

"And I thought only Muggle fiction had things like that." Desi muttered under her breath.

"Don't touch anything in this room. And I mean anything." Draco admonished both professor and fellow student. "My father was a little overly-zealous about security. Especially once he came back from Azkaban two years ago. There's probably a dozen spelltraps lacing this room, and they're all keyed in to his blood. My own mother can't enter this room without him by her side at all times, let alone the house-elves." He reached inside the hollowed-out cupboard and pulled out a green-covered journal, the pages yellowed with age. Opening it, he thumbed through pages of cramped handwriting and sketches, some disturbingly detailed. "Is this what we're looking for, Professor?"

She looked over Draco's shoulder, too frightened to breathe in case she set off some sort of protection. Gesturing for him to turn the pages, she scanned until she came across a sketch she was too familiar with. A skull loomed from the ink and paper, with a snake protruding from the mouth.

"That's exactly what I'm looking for." Her eyes scanned the page as if memorizing the spell. In all actuality, she was copying it. In her pockets, she'd slipped a spare bit of parchment for this moment. Hurridly, she spoke an incantation under her breath and felt the paper warm under her fingers as the words appeared on the page. She thanked the Gods for Sirius Black teaching her that trick in his final year at Hogwarts; after her flight from Slytherin, Sirius had found amusement in teaching the new Gryffindor and Headmaster's heir all sorts of sneaky little tricks. This was one of the more useful ones.

After a few moments, she nodded to Draco to return the book. "We're done here."

"No, you're not." A high pitched voice called from behind her. The three spun around to face a balding, round, short man with beady eyes and a distinctly creepy vibe to him. "You're going to hand me that book, boy. I know someone who's wanted that back for quite a while. Thank you so very much for fetching it for me."

Draco stared with open jaw. Harry reached for his wand behind his back. Desi simply gagged. She recognized that voice all too well. "Pettigrew?"

The creepy little man nodded. In the limited light of the room, metal shone from one hand. "I thought I recognized you, little Desdemona. I must say, you've grown so lovely over the years. You know, I was always fond of that ponytail you wore your hair in. The braid doesn't do you justice."

Desi gagged again. Utter repulsion filled her. "Great. Let me guess. Voldemort's had this place charmed. The second Draco opened that drawer, you were sent here. Great." She let loose with a series of swears, both anatomically and geographically impossible.

Pettigrew's eyes grew huge. "What language, little Desdemona. Come now, hand over the book, boy. Desdemona, do tell him to do as I ask. You always were good with leadership." He held his good hand out, waiting for Draco to hand it over. He looked at his professor first. At her nod, he relinquished the book.

Pettigrew's entire face took on a cheerful light. "My master's wanted that book back for a few months now. Been regretting handing it over to Lucius for safekeeping all those years ago. Now, you three, follow me."

"Like hell we will." Desi snarled. "Do you take me for a complete fool? You're not taking us to Voldemort or anywhere else for that matter. You have what you came for. Go crawl back to your precious master now. Go on; crawl back like the scum you are." Her nose curled as he took a few steps closer.

"I'm not taking you to him, pretty little Desdemona." Pettigrew clacked his fingernails together in a look of joy. "You're going to stay here. Locked away where you can be safe and sound. All three of you. You see, my master doesn't know you're here. He only knows he sent me for the book. If I take you to him now, it'll seem too easy." A look of desperation and exhilaration warred in his beady eyes, and the leering grin on his face made Desi's skin crawl again. She started to get a sneaking suspicion that Pettigrew wasn't completely sane anymore. "So, in a few days, when he begins to complain about his revenge on Dumbledore and Potter, I can sneak away and bring you to him. Then I will be exalted as I should be. The most faithful of them all!"

Desi snorted at the insane cackle in his voice. Her suspicion paid off. "You're off your broomstick."

He slapped her, his hand flying across the space between them so suddenly she didn't have time to react. "Shut UP! I let you talk like that to me once. Not again." At seeing Harry's sudden movement, he whipped a wand from his pockets. "Expelliarmus!"

Three wands clattered to the floor. He gathered them up and placed them on the mantelpiece.

"Now, as I was saying, follow me."

The two students stared at their professor, who nodded once. Now that she knew Peter Pettigrew had finally and completely gone insane, she felt a bit more confident, despite the stinging on her left cheek. Better a raging lunatic than a Dark Sorcerer bent on control, domination, and destruction.

Silently, she kicked herself for not listening to Sev.

* * *

"Something's wrong."

Lupin glared at the pacing man from over his steaming goblet of wolfsbane potion. The full moon was coming tonight; he could feel it in his blood. All he could do was wait; this was the part he hated most. "She's fine, Severus."

"She was supposed to be back an hour ago." Pacing was the only thing keeping him stable at the moment. "She promised. An hour at the most. It's been over two. What in the hell is keeping her?"

Remus had no answer. None that would satisfy the man hell-bent on wearing a hole in the Headmaster's lounge. Besides, loathe as he was to admit it, he was doing everything in his power to not join the man in his nervousness. Des should have been back, or at the very least stuck her head in the fire long enough to tell them she was delayed. She knew Severus would count the seconds until she returned, and she'd promised to spend as much time with him as she could before the sun fell behind the horizon. However, showing his alarm would only push Severus over the edge, and he of all people wasn't willing to deal with him in a panic. "If you're that worried, why not track her down and check on her with a Guardian Charm?"

Snape stared at the man as if he'd just asked him out on a date. "What?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "A Guardian Charm. Surely you know about them. We covered this in school, Severus. Take something personal of an individual, add the charm, and it's linked to that person's well-being. Find something of Des's and put a charm on it. It'll change color if she's in danger. It's similar to the clock Arthur Weasley has. He actually asked me to make it for him when he began his brood all those years ago. We modified it to a directional one, but for Des, I think a color system will work. Simplicity is easiest, especially when the person isn't present."

Severus looked as if he'd forgotten his own name. "I never thought of it."

"Well, that's obvious. You weren't that good in charms, as I recall. Defense and Potions; those were your classes." Lupin folded his copy of the Daily Prophet that had rested on his lap as he drank the potion and rose from the leather chair he'd been sitting in for an hour. "Come on, there has to be something in her rooms or office we can use. If it'll alleviate your brooding, I'll be brave enough to knick through her things. But I am not going through her dresser drawers."

* * *

Pettigrew led the trio down into the Malfoy cellars. The dampness on the walls and the eerie sound of crawling insects made Desi shudder. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see both Harry and Draco marching silently, neither looking exceptionally thrilled.

She had to get them out of this. Somehow.

Finally, he led them to a door, which opened into a room with no windows or openings of any kind. "In here, all of you." They entered. Pettigrew then scurried to one side of the room where, on a shelf, was a brown bottle. He picked it up and handed to Desi. "Drink. One gulp should do it."

She looked at the bottle, knowing full well what was in it by the smell. _Keep him talking, Desi. Keep him talking. Buy yourself time._ "Not until you tell me what this is."

His little eyes seemed to dilate in the limited light from the hallway. "It's a little concoction to make sure you three can't escape. A Blocking Potion. Just to make sure you can't do anything foolish while you're in here."

She glared at him, the bottle in her hand. The moron fell for it; like she wouldn't know what the potion was. She should have listened to Severus and his feeling. _Buy some more time. _"And when I do drink?"

He smiled widely. "I'll leave you here for a few hours and come back to check on you. I have to get back to my master. He'll be so pleased to get his book back. But I'll be back for you, little Desdemona."

Her skin crawled again. _Dear havens, when were Sev and Remus going to realize they were late? Surely someone would have looked at a clock by now._ "What about them?"

Pettigrew looked them over. "They'll drink it too. But no one will be harmed. Don't worry, I won't hurt them. My master will want them alive and well, yes he will."

The madness in his eyes made him glow.

Desi looked him over one more time. Damn it all to hell. He was going to make her drink it. Damn it some more. "You swear? We won't be harmed?"

Her students stared at her as if she were insane. Pettigrew nodded.

The calvary wasn't on its way, something in her head told her. It was up to her to get the three of them out of this, and to do that, she needed to be alive and awake. And there was only one way that would happen. Without another moment's hesitation, she swallowed a mouthful of the potion. The gleam in Pettigrew's eyes grew. Wiping her mouth with the back of her left hand, she passed the bottle to Draco with her right. "Drink." He did, then passed the bottle to Harry, who drank his share.

Pettigrew became even more gleeful. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at them. "You three. Sit down. Just because you're blocked doesn't mean I'm going to leave you here without something to keep you here."

With another nod from their professor, both boys sat down. Pettigrew conjured ropes and, with a flick of his wrist, had secured ankles together and wrists behind backs. "There. Now, I'll be off, and I'll be back in a few hours." He leered at the three of them, and then stepped over to Desi. Leaning down, he ran one crusty fingernail down her left cheek. "Too bad it's so dark here. I can't see those lovely blue eyes of yours." The fingernail slid under her chin, raising her face to look him in the eyes. "No Remus and Sirius to stop me this time, is there, little Desdemona?"

Bile lodged itself in her throat. Instinctively, she kicked out at him, driving him away from her. He laughed in return. "So feisty. I loved that about you."

With that, he left the room. Before walking away, Desi heard him place a Sealing Charm on the door.

Damn it to hell again.

* * *

"Quills, parchment, spare bottles for potions ingredients..." Lupin stared at Des's desk draws for the third time. "Doesn't she keep anything personal in here? Knickknacks? Picture frames? Old love letters from your youth?"

Severus shook his head as he scanned the cupboards, not catching the implied insult sent his way. "No. She really doesn't. I think she was too afraid she'd get mad and break something she kept in here. Her hobby is throwing potions bottles around when she loses her temper."

Lupin sighed. He remembered her aim all too well. "Alright, let's go to her apartments."

As the two men strode down hallways together, neither one recognized fully the impact of the situation. For over an hour, neither had glared at, insulted, or outright vocalized hostility toward the other. It was amazing.

Too bad neither of them recognized it.

"I knew I should have gone with her."

"Dumbledore said no. You were there. He thought that..."

"Well, he thought WRONG!" The roar of the professor's voice scared a few straggling students in the hallway.

Lupin sighed. "Well, now we know that. Calm yourself down. We could be blowing this out of proportion, Severus. She might be just fine."

Snape shot daggers at him.

Remus didn't blame him. He was starting to doubt his own words.

_Des, what's taking so long?_

* * *

"What was that all about, Professor?" Harry finally found his voice after hearing Pettigrew's shuffling move away from the door. "And why is my head feeling fuzzy?"

Desi wiggled in place for a moment. Her robes were thin; underneath she was in yoga pants and a t-shirt. Something had told her to wear sneakers and comfortable clothing, something that wouldn't get in the way if she'd had to get into a duel arcane with some creature guarding the Malfoy home or sneak down dark passageways. At least she'd listened to herself. Her wrists were bound, her arms falling close to the small of her back. Her legs were in front of her, bound low at the ankles, right above her shoes. There was some give in the rope; time to find out how much more she could create.

This was possible. Painful, but possible.

As she began to toe off her sneakers, she turned to face her two students. "The Blocking Potion prevents a witch or wizard from being able to do magic. Not all spells or magical abilities require a wand. In fact, many don't, but those tend to be the less-complicated ones. It just takes a great deal of practice and patience to direct your energy without using your wand as a focus, and most of us are too lazy to put in the time. But the Blocking Potion somehow prevents wizardkind from using their abilities, regardless of wands nearby." Finally; she hated herself for tying the damned laces so tight. "That's why your heads are feeling fuzzy. It should wear off in a few hours, unless he returns to feed us more."

Desi sighed for a second, stretching her arms as much as possible and trying to work the ankle rope a bit further down her feet. "And as for the rest...when I left Slytherin for Gryffindor, Peter Pettigrew decided to fancy me. Actually, I think he fancied me before then, but, well, it was pretty well-known I was Severus Snape's tagalong. He began following me around the school, watching me. It scared me, but James and Remus and Sirius brushed it off. One night he cornered me in the library, demanding I spend the next weekend in Hogsmeade with him. He was jealous; James had Lily and Sirius could have almost any girl he wished, and Remus wasn't going on that last weekend since it corresponded with a little lunar event that would make things complicated. Since Remus wasn't going, he figured that left the playing field wide open to ask me." Figuring the ankle rope wasn't going to move anymore, she began stretching the wrist rope, trying to get as much slack as possible. "When I said no, he grabbed me and tried to kiss me, growling about never being given a chance and always being last. Remus and Sirius walked by right at that moment and hauled him off of me. It gave me nightmares for a month."

Harry shuddered. "I'm sorry, Professor..."

She snorted. "Not as sorry as he was the next day, when the pair punished him by setting him up on a blind date with the resident hag of Hufflepuff. And not half as sorry as he'll be the next time I get my hands on him." Her wrists were as slack as they were going to become. Now for the hard part.

* * *

"Des is going to kill us, you know." Remus Lupin stood in his best friend's bedroom, somehow feeling like a voyeur, even though he'd spent a night sleeping in her bed. It didn't feel the same now, knowing full well that the man currently destroying her desk drawers had done more than sleep in it.

_And there's one thought I never needed to have, thank you very much, overactive imagination. _

Snape shot a look at him; a look that Remus couldn't identity. It almost looked like concern. "If she kills me, I can die happy, knowing she's alive and in one piece. Now, damn it, that woman has to have something personal around here. What can we use for this charm again?"

Lupin kept looking on her shelves for something useful. "Something with sentimental value, something she's kept close to herself. It has to have a residue of her life-energy on it, so usually the charms are placed on jewelry, since they usually have high contact with skin. It can't be fabric for some reason, so a blanket or a stuffed animal won't work."

A slam of a book against wood echoed in the room. "Then we have a problem. Desi doesn't wear jewelry. No potions masters do; the fumes can interact with the metal, and you don't even want to know what it does if it splashes." Severus continued plowing through her living room; the woman had to have some trinket somewhere.

"Are you sure about that, Severus? About the no-jewelry thing?"

"Considering I've spent almost every spare hour of the last few months with her, I think I would have noticed, Lupin."

"Then what about this necklace?" Remus pointed to a silver chain on Des's bureau. Attached was a small bottle, filled with a silver colored liquid he didn't recognize offhand. He thought it looked familiar, but couldn't place it.

Severus left his unsuccessful search of her living room shelves and caught his breath for a second. The Acupartio Potion. She hadn't worn it today. Come to think of it, she hadn't worn it since she completed the transfiguration. He nodded. "That's about as personal an item as we're going to find that the Guardian Charm will work on. Other than her insane collection of books, there isn't much else here. Besides, she wore this daily for the first few months of school. Will this do?"

Lupin took a deep breath and nodded. "Well, let's do it." In a clear voice, he spoke a few words, pointing his wand at the necklace. "Now, give it a few seconds for the charm to take effect. And make sure you hold onto it until she comes back. I fixed the spell onto you."

"Why don't you, since you're the expert in this?"

"Because the chain is made of SILVER, you idiot!"

Snape stared at him with thunderstruck awe. He'd almost forgotten that the man was a werewolf.

Within seconds, the bottle began to glow a vibrant shade of red.

Snape couldn't tear his eyes away from the bottle. For some reason, the color didn't calm his nerves one bit. "Would you care to let me know what that color means?"

Lupin let out his breath and turned to face his former nemesis. "It means you're right."

* * *

Slowly, she began rocking back and forth, trying to work her clasped arms under her hip bones. The pulling in her shoulders grew, but she didn't see much of a choice. Madam Pomfrey could take care of a dislocated shoulder when they got back. Better that than a broken leg. She began working more on her left side than her right; she was right-handed, and needed that arm more than her left once they were free.

_Damn the muses, Sev, where in Hades' playground are you?_

"What are you doing?" Draco Malfoy asked, breaking the three minute silence that had hung in the air.

Desi stopped for a second. "Idiot Peter didn't know I've spent the last ten years taking Yoga and Pilates with Muggles in America." She let out a breath and began again. Her hands were almost clear. Just a little more...

Draco stared at her, dumbfounded. Even in the darkness, she could sense his open jaw. "It's an exercise course, Malfoy. Makes someone limber and flexible. I'm trying to get my arms out in front of me without killing myself. If I can do that, I might be able to get us untied and begin to work on a way out of here."

"How?" Harry asked. "We can't use magic and the door's sealed with a Sealing Charm."

Draco responded for her, since she was currently letting out a small yelp of pain. "You idiot. Didn't you pay any attention when we came in here? This is my father's apothecary. Hello? We're locked in a dark room with a Potions expert in a room filled with potions and ingredients. Even in the dark, I'm willing to bet she could find something to help."

Desi was amused at the vote of confidence, but didn't say anything. Just then, her hands slipped from underneath her hips, meaning that the tearing of her shoulder just then wasn't in vain. The yelp became a scream, and both students stared in the darkness in her general direction.

Taking a few deep breaths, Desi tried to push the pain out of her mind. Now, for the fun part: bringing her legs through. Damn, this was going to hurt.

* * *

In one angry motion, Severus Snape grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, flung it into Desi's fireplace and thundered the address for Lucius Malfoy's estate. Expecting to be transported directly there, he was stunned to find himself flung back into Desi's living room, colliding with her coffee table.

"What in blazes...?"

Lupin stared Snape, who was picking himself up off the floor. "How did that happen?"

"I don't KNOW!"

"You don't have to bite my head off..." Lupin walked over to examine the fireplace. "Let me try something."

At Snape's nod, he took a handful of Floo Powder, flung it into the fireplace, and called out a different address. As usual, he was taken directly to the Order's headquarters. Thankfully, the room was empty. With another handful, he tried to send himself to Malfoy's estate. This time, he was the one picking himself up off the floor. Rubbing his elbow, he took a final handful and found himself back in Desi's apartments.

Snape looked ready to murder.

Lupin's expression equaled his.

"Someone's blocked Malfoy Manor from the Floo Network." Lupin declared, a tired and concerned note in his voice.

Snape grabbed the red-glowing necklace and flung powder into the fireplace one last time, Lupin hot on his heels.

Their destination was the Headmaster's Office.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"Damn it! If only my ankles were undone. This would be a sight easier." Desi was grateful she'd decided to do something stupid and braid her hair back this morning. She hated doing it, but it was out of her face, which made this easier. Sweat dripped from her nose, and every sound of scurrying animals or insects made her jump.

Her students weren't doing too well either. Harry sounded like he was ready to have a minor heart attack every time he heard a noise, and Draco had been too quiet for too long.

Finally, her heel hooked on a wrist. Although she could feel the tearing pain in her left shoulder grow and whacked her jaw with her knee, she finally managed to bring both ankles through the loop in her arms. This put Desi's hands directly in front of her and within reach of her ankles. Within seconds, she'd managed to undo the simple knots in the rope. A minute later, and she had both students untied, with Draco finally undoing the knot on her wrists. Massaging both ankles so she could stand, Desi finally made her way to the low counter space by the door, hands stumbling in their search for a candle, matches, anything to light the room.

Draco opened a side cupboard door and handed her the desired materials. When she looked at him cautiously, he shrugged. "When my father had company, I came down here to hide. Since I couldn't do magic at home, I kept a supply of candles down here.

She could have kissed the young wizard.

Striking the match, she lit a candle and began to pour over the bottles in the apothecary. Ingredients and common potion bottles were everywhere. Some she had to open and smell to get an idea of what they were. Others were labeled clearly.

None of them were what she needed.

Her mind raced. The ingredients were there, but she had no way to brew it. However, she didn't have much of a choice. Or time to brew anything.

"Harry, get me one tablespoon of powdered root of asphodel from that cupboard there. Draco, I need about half a cup of dragon bile and six peeled shrivelfigs." She herself began clumsily grinding some crushed snake fangs in a mortar; doing things with only one arm was difficult at best. Within moments, the two students had the ingredients. Reaching for a bottle of mandrake juice and a container of leech juice, Desi began stirring the ingredients in a small dusty cauldron Harry found in the corner.

_Please let this work. _

After a few moments of stirring, she grabbed a bottle, filled it from the small amount in the cauldron, and brought it to her lips. "Here goes nothing."

The potion slid down her throat, coating her stomach as it went. The texture was vile, the taste was worse. She wanted to gag. Within seconds, the fuzzy spot in her head vanished.

"I'm not letting the two of you touch that," she declared, looking at the two pairs of eyes watching her in the candlelight. "Not until I know it's safe. Just because it's working now doesn't mean anything. Now, about this door..."

* * *

"Without a way to get into Malfoy's home, how do we even know whether or not Desi is even still there?" Snape had returned to pacing, this time with the Headmaster as a witness as well, wringing his hands with every step. The necklace sat on a table, where all three men in the room could watch it intently.

Lupin joined him, pacing on the other side of the room, running his hands through his hair absent-mindedly. "If she wasn't, I doubt the place would be sealed off from the network. Des is there; I know it. Someone's keeping her there, but for the life of me I can't think why. But blocking off a location from the Floo Network without going through the proper channels takes effort..."

Dumbledore raged inside his mind despite the serenity he showed both men. He should have listened to Severus. He shouldn't have sent Desdemona to the Manor. He shouldn't have sent the students, no matter how hard Harry had begged him to go. He shouldn't have gotten this insane idea in the first place.

_However, moments like this were where the Mark would be useful. _

He hated himself for that fleeting thought. Here he sat, his beloved granddaughter in trouble, and he was trying to rationalize a decision he'd made that she disagreed with.

Snape continued pacing, muttering to himself. "Well, let's think about this for a second. Lucius is in Azkaban and Narcissa's likely to be there with him, since visiting hours are far from over. Who could possibly be holding her there? Not Draco; he wouldn't know how to block the fireplace. Not Potter, for more reasons than we can list. I doubt the house-elves are sad to see Lucius gone; even the LeStranges treated theirs better than he did his own. Who's left?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "If Harry was correct, and Voldemort knew..."

Lupin shook his head. "How would you-know-who know they were going to be there? That doesn't make any..."

All three men were silenced and riveted as the necklace they watched faded from a glowing scarlet-red to a pale and pulsing yellow. "What does that mean?" Snape whispered, his voice echoing off the walls as if he'd shouted. "What in bloody hell does that color mean?"

Lupin gave a sigh of relief. Thank the Gods. "Whatever danger she was just in, she's not in as deeply."

"Well, that's a relief. Cryptic as hell, but a relief."

* * *

Five spells later, Desi was running out of ways to remove the Sealing Charm without her wand. All of her spells backfired. She'd especially loved being launched across the room and colliding with the stone wall. Did wonders for her left shoulder, which was screaming in agony. Besides blowing the door up, which she didn't think possible given the limited combustible material in the small room, she was running out of options.

"Great. Just great." Harry snorted, looking at Draco with contempt in his eyes. "Your father wouldn't happen to have any Dark Arts toys lying around in here, would he? He did kind of go for that thing, you know."

Draco came within a hair of hitting him. "Just because my parents weren't good little saints who managed to get themselves killed so righteously..."

Harry actually took a swing at his nemesis. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"STOP!" Both wizards held their fists in mid-air and gaped at their professor, who just looked as if she'd had the greatest idea of her life. Seeing the pair of them about to go at each other lit a fire in the back of her pain-dulled mind. "The two of you, insult me."

They continued to stare, dumbfounded.

Desi groaned. "I mean it, you two. Insult me. Badger me. Get me angry. Do it!"

Harry stumbled for words. "Um...you're a lousy teacher?"

Draco laughed. "Yeah, right Potter. That'll work."

Harry looked ready to swing at him again. "Right, then. You do better."

Draco swallowed before opening his mouth. When would be the next chance he'd get to tell a professor exactly what he felt, right? "You have lousy taste in men."

Desi glared at him.

When he realized this was what she really wanted him to do, he kept going. "Well, I'm sorry, but Snape? Are you into guys who dress as if it's still the 19th century and spend all their free time reading archaic books on boring subjects? The man is a relic and a case study in angst; he hates damn near everyone and everything in this world. And you come along and get the hots for him? What are you into, boring guys who can cure your insomnia? You're not ugly, certainly you can choose someone with better looks. And you're not boring or annoying; definitely you can pull someone with a better disposition. But Snape? You have to be completely insane, or blind, or really twisted to go for him."

Desi glowered at her student.

Draco continued, getting braver every second, but out of things to say. "And I'm sorry, but scarlet red does nothing for you. It washes you out. Try wearing something deeper, like some green. It'd do wonders for your hair. Which, by the way, you should get cut. Long hair isn't working with you."

Harry finally felt brave enough to open his own mouth. Somehow, insulting her love life and fashion sense wasn't quite his thing. Besides, he knew things about her Malfoy didn't dream about. "Why were you such a coward to hide in America for twenty years, anyway? If you were so innocent, why run? If the Ministry believed you, why stay there? You think you're so powerful, so capable. How can we believe you? You were such a coward. You ran away from Slytherin, you ran away from Hogwarts, you ran away from the Order, and you ran away from your family. How can you even claim to be the granddaughter of the most incredible wizard alive today?"

Desi looked ready to hit him.

He continued, after seeing the look of respect and shock from Draco's face. Or maybe it was confusion, since he likely had no clue what he was ranting about. He couldn't tell. "You act so self-righteous all the time, like you know how to choose right and wrong. How many times have you made the right decision? From what you told me, you've screwed up one time too many. You tell your students we can change the course of our lives, but you're too scared to change much of anything. You act so perfect, so capable, when in reality all you do is hide behind your grandfather and cling to the past that you're too scared to face! You're no better than a little girl hiding behind your mum."

Draco had no idea whatsoever of what Potter was rambling on about, but it was severely pissing off their professor. "And coming on to the creep who tied us up and left us here didn't exactly help matters much." He laughed half-heartedly.

Desi finally exploded. "I was NOT coming on to him! I was not hiding! And I am not a scared little girl!" With a scream and a gesture, the door flew off its hinges.

Draco and Harry jumped. Desi sighed deeply, straightening her robes and composing herself. "Well, Papa always said my temper would one day be an asset." She pointed to the hallway. "Care to lead us out of here, Draco?"

"How in the bloody hell..." Draco's voice trailed off as he stepped through the charred remains of the doorway.

Desi just grinned. "The more upset I get, the stronger I get, and the less I need a wand. My mother was the same way. Figured it might work now."

As the two students walked by, Harry looked at his professor sheepishly. "I didn't mean what I said. I want you to know that."

She smiled weakly, taking a deep breath. "I know."

Draco called from halfway down the passage. "Well, I don't mind your long hair, but I meant the bit about Snape. You have horrible taste in men. The image of the two of you getting it on after hours will haunt my nightmares for years."

The three of them made their way back into the study, where they found their wands waiting for them on the mantle. "Idiot. Total and complete moronic idiot. Yes, let's leave the wands of three locked up prisoners where they could find them if needed. Twit. Imbecile." Desi continued to insult Pettigrew in colorful and impressive ways as she doled out wands and headed back to the fireplace they'd arrived in, where she grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and attempted to send herself back to Hogwarts.

Instead, she flew across the room, hitting her head on the stone wall behind her.

"What in bloody hell...?" She moaned as Harry and Draco helped her back on her feet.

* * *

The cryptic relief didn't last. The charm suddenly returned to its previous red glow with no warning whatsoever. All three men jumped at the sight.

"I'm going out there."

Lupin rolled his eyes at the man raging in the Headmaster's office. "Is that really a good idea? For all we know, you'd be walking into a trap. What are you going to do? Where are you going to go? Think, if only for a second! We know she's in trouble, but storming in without a plan is a sure way to get her deeper in it. Just step back and think."

"You want me to think at a time like this?" Snape roared.

Lupin began to wonder if the man only had two levels of speech volume. All he ever seemed to get was diabolical whisper and draconic roaring. "Damn it, Severus, yes I do! Don't scream at me because your lady love is in peril. Believe it or not, you're not the only person in this room who cares about Des. She's the closest thing to family I've had in years; don't you think I'm scared as hell for her? And for crying out loud, look at Dumbledore! Her own grandfather! Pull yourself together and THINK!"

Snape slid his eyes away from the man raging in front of him in time to see Albus Dumbledore wearily sink back into a chair, his face pale beyond belief. Somehow, the sight of the wizard he'd grown to respect over twenty years looking so frightened and incapable made him calm down some. Lupin, annoying though he was, was right. Rushing into something was only going to end up badly. "What do you propose we do?" He sighed in resignation, shoulders slumping as he braced himself on the table where the necklace rested.

Lupin shrugged, staring into the fire. "I don't know. I really don't know."

Dumbledore sighed loudly, causing both men to jump. "My granddaughter is still alive; that much we know. The charm would cease glowing at all if she were not. Also, transporting herself and Misters Potter and Malfoy would take a great deal of effort, so we can assume that they are still at the Manor. If they have been removed, however, the danger to anyone arriving there now would likely be gone. Regardless, going to Malfoy Manor is the place to start. Go to Hogsmeade; apparate from there. Severus, you know the grounds. Remus, go with him. Between the two of you, you should be able to find them." He rose from the chair with shaky effort, and both men nodded, looking at each other with none of the usual hostility on their faces. Dumbledore took a second to appraise the situation; it was a measure of how much each man both cared for and worried about Desdemona, watching them agree to work together and cooperate with such little effort, given their history.

The thought made his heart wrench once more.

"Gentlemen, please bring me back my granddaughter."

* * *

"Well, we're certainly not leaving the way we came." Desi made that intelligent observation after one more try with the fireplace. Her shoulder was not happy with her, and she was starting to feel somewhat queasy from flying across a room. With a heaving sigh, she looked at both Harry and Draco. "Well? Suggestions?"

Draco frowned. "Can we apparate close to Hogwarts?"

Desi looked him up and down. "Has the potion worn off?"

Draco shook his head. "No. But you've been fine and there's more in the apothecary and..."

"And you're not taking so much as a whiff of that potion and that's that, Mr. Malfoy. I didn't prepare that concoction properly; who knows what effect it'll end up having on me. I needed to drink it; otherwise we'd still be IN that claustrophobic room. Didn't Severus cover the risks of taking an ill-prepared potion? I could get sick at best and die at worse. I'm not risking the two of you. Now, other suggestions?"

Harry looked out the window behind Draco. "Couldn't we simply walk out of the house and hide in the thicket back there until the potion does wear off?"

Desi followed his gaze. Even though it was still daylight, the trees growing behind the manor were thick and overgrown; the darkness there could be enough to hide them for an hour or two. Just long enough. "Draco, please tell me your father didn't do something incredibly foolish and plant horrible Dark-created plants or trees out there." The last thing she needed was to walk into a batch of devil's snare while escaping from the rat.

He shook his head again. "The trees have been there for two hundred years. The rest of the plants would be my mother's doing. She's not as into the dark stuff as Father. She likes roses and lilacs and things like that."

Harry stared at Draco. A Malfoy that liked to putter in a rose garden? He shook his head at the thoughts in his mind.

"The potion could take another hour or so easily to wear off. We know that darling Peter plans to come back before then. It's our best bet. Alright. Stupid though it sounds, let's go on a nature hike." Desi gestured for Draco to lead them to a door.

It was sealed with a charm as well.

"Bloody hell." Desi was getting far more annoyed than she liked. With a wave of her wand, the door flew off the hinges.

Draco cringed. "My mother loved the stained glass in that door's window."

Harry simply rolled his eyes.

* * *

"I cannot believe you convinced me to go this route."

Lupin grinned in the darkness. "Trust me, this is the quickest route to Hogsmeade. The road winds too much; this is a straight shot. And the sooner we're off Hogwarts grounds, the sooner we can apparate, oh Prince not-so-Charming."

Snape growled. "I've never liked this tunnel."

"That's just because of that nasty prank Sirius and James played on you. You have to admit, Severus, you were asking for it."

"I was not."

"Sure, fine, you weren't asking for it. Happy now?" Lupin turned to look at the man following him. "For the record, they never told me before they did that to you. I wouldn't have allowed it to happen if I'd know, Severus. Not just because of Des; I wouldn't wish this private hell of mine on my worst enemy, let alone some greasy-haired pompous ass who couldn't understand that not everyone in the world was out to get him. And for what it's worth, James, Sirius, and I fought for weeks afterward about how underhanded and cruel that was."

Snape stood still in the dark tunnel.

Remus looked back toward the black silhouette. "Severus, it was over thirty years ago that this all began. Thirty long years. We were boys; we were young and stupid and rash and impulsive and immature and rude and cruel and everything that eleven year old boys are supposed to be. We all made mistakes, yourself included. I'm sorry, James was sorry after he thought more about it, and even Sirius was sorry in the end. Damn it, isn't it time to let the feud go?"

He turned his back on the silent man. That wasn't the best time to unload all that on him, but it needed to be said, and there was something safe and anonymous about the dark of the tunnel to Hogsmeade that made it easier to say everything he should have said years ago.

"Come on, Severus. We're almost there. Time to save your lady fair."

* * *

The rolling nausea that had plagued Desi as she slammed against walls in the Malfoy sitting room came back with a vengeance. Unfortunately, the timing wasn't good. The sound of broken glass and slamming doors signaled to the group that their former host had returned. A loud shriek a few moments later confirmed what they'd feared – Pettigrew knew they'd escaped. And from the sounds of things breaking in the Malfoy home, he wasn't happy about it.

"Damn." She whispered to the pair of students, both of whom were riveted to the door they'd just blasted through. "Get in the trees. NOW."

They darted through the foliage, both of them too afraid to do otherwise. She was right behind them, trying to keep an eye on them as well as the house as she ran. While she didn't see any sign of Pettigrew following them, that didn't mean anything. Apparating didn't take much effort, unless of course you were drugged out of comprehension. The house kept growing smaller and more distant the further into the foliage they crept.

As soon as they were out of sight of the house, however, she couldn't keep the nausea away any longer. Desdemona grabbed a slender trunk to hold herself upright as she began heaving. Both Draco and Harry stood by, uselessly, as their professor began throwing up the contents of her stomach which, thankfully, were limited only to the potions she'd consumed within the last hour or so. Finally, the heaving died down, leaving Desi with a foul taste in her mouth and a painfully fuzzy spot in her head.

"And that is why I didn't let you two take any of the potion." She spat out, trying to wipe the taste from her lips. "Now we're all screwed. I can't do magic any more than you two. And we still have that complete psychopath looking for us. Medusa's hair, I should have listened to that annoyingly-protective man and his 'bad feeling'. So screwed."

"And the fact you're wearing bright red won't help matters much," Draco pointed out dryly. Looking down at herself, Desi suddenly realized she was still in her robes. She reached in her pockets and grabbed the parchment with the bespelled information and her useless wand. Within seconds, she thrust the document into Harry's hands, her wand into Draco's, and then she'd yanked the scarlet fabric off and kicked it underneath leaves, leaving her clad now only in her yoga pants, shirt, and sneakers.

Why didn't she wear a sweater today?

"Thanks, Draco. Now, the two of you run like hell. Draco, I'm sure you know where to go. Hide somewhere safe until the fuzziness in your heads goes away and then apparate to Hogsmeade. By then, I'll either have found you or I'm too screwed for the both of you to help me. Draco, don't lose my wand; I'm going to need it again, someday. I hope. And Harry, keep that parchment safe. It has to get to my grandfather; if Peter finds it, he'll tell Voldemort and he'll know. Do you understand? It must get to Papa, otherwise I've gotten myself sick and injured for no good reason, and I would really hate knowing I've gone through this for nothing."

The boys stared at their professor with wide eyes and wider jaws.

Harry set his jaw and summoned what courage and nerves he had left. "We're not leaving you, Professor." Amazingly, Draco took an identical stance, nodding alongside his normal, everyday nemesis.

"How cute, Harry. Yes you are. You're not getting yourself killed for me."

"We can't leave you like this."

"Damn it, Harry, yes you can. You have to. I'm not going to be able to do magic for a while; I can tell from the pounding in my head. All I'll do is slow you down, because ten galleons says I'm about to be sick again. Besides, think about it for two seconds. If Peter gets his hands on me, it's not the end of the world. You heard him; he plans on holding me hostage. If he gets his hands on you, he'll turn you over to Voldemort. Last I remember hearing, every member of the Order is supposed to protect your life with their dying breath, Harry. Myself included. You're hiding, with Draco, and then you're getting back to Hogwarts and there is no arguing with me about this. Got it?"

Harry gaped at his professor as she clung to the tree, visibly trying to not be ill again, a resolve in her eyes that scared him. She knew what she was doing; he was sure of it. "I'm tired of seeing people sacrifice themselves for my safety, Professor. Not this time."

Desi rolled her eyes. "Draco, please hit him with a rock and drag him into some safe hiding place if he doesn't go willingly. Harry, please. I'm older, I'm wiser, and I'm paid to be your superior. The two of you run. I'll be fine. Hide, get to school, send help then. Alright? I swear, I'll be fine." The sound of breaking twigs behind them shocked them all into silence. Desi stared hard at them, shooing them with her hands and mouthing at them. "GO!"

They ran, Draco leading Harry as he kept looking over his shoulder at Drecorum, who looked over her own shoulder.

Seconds later, Peter Pettigrew caught sight of the woman he was searching for.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"I can't believe we left her behind like that."

Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more at that moment than to shut up Harry noble Potter. "You heard her. She told us to take off. I'm not sticking around with that loony. Besides, all we have to do is hole up, wait for that repulsive potion to wear off, and go find her. I'm not planning to leave her out there, wonder boy. But I'm not stupid. You and I both have an idea what that repulsive creature will do to her; she's right, he's not going to kill her. Not right away, anyway. I'm not exactly thrilled leaving her in that situation, but she was right. We're no use to her right now; why stay behind and get killed too?"

Harry wanted nothing more at that moment than to kick Draco chicken Malfoy. He had an idea of what Malfoy meant by 'what that repulsive creature will do to her'. It both frightened and enraged him. "I hope we can find her when we do have the ability to use magic again."

"Thank you, Professor Obvious." Draco snorted as he looked over at the one person he had never wanted to be stuck in a dangerous situation in for the entirety of his life. "You didn't really think I would leave her there completely, did you? Despite my sarcasm, I'm not a total jerk, you know. I happen to like Drecorum. She's got a wicked sense of humor."

This was probably one of the last things Harry ever expected to hear Draco Malfoy say. He liked someone? "Why did you begin going to Drecorum in the first place?"

"Because. She didn't judge people. She seemed impartial. And because she came to me, asking to talk, one day in the library." Draco turned to look behind them, more because he didn't want to face Potter than anything else. "Just because I don't want to be my father doesn't mean I'm perfect or noble or anything. Don't go making that mistake. And while we're asking questions, why did you want to come along on this little adventure in the first place?"

Harry swallowed. He hadn't expected an honest answer from Malfoy. It made him feel more inclined to be honest in return. "Because that book, and what Dumbledore wants to use it for, is going to affect me. I'm going to end up at the center of it all. I guess I felt I should be there for the beginning of it all."

The thought made Draco look at Potter a little oddly. There had been such a tired resignation in his voice, like someone told they only had a month to live when they knew they were already dying. Maybe Potter wasn't the do-gooder he'd always thought. Maybe he didn't want any of this. Was that possible? Did Perfect Harry Potter really not want to be the famous savior of the wizarding world?

The rustling of leaves behind them stopped Draco's introspective train of thought. Without warning, hands clasped their shoulders and yanked them backwards.

* * *

A second wave of nausea hit Desi right as she saw Pettigrew through the trees. Swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat, she took off down the slope that led away from Harry and Draco, breathing a sigh of relief as he followed her. Something had told her this wasn't about the two students anymore.

This was personal.

The slope grew steeper the further she went, trailing towards a small streambed below. The trees here were older, denser, but a great deal of deadwood littered the ground at her feet. Desi kept finding herself dodging stumps and large branches, trying to avoid them so she could stay on her feet, sucking in air as her footfalls jarred her left shoulder painfully.

Why in the Hell hadn't he simply apparated to her?

As soon as she thought the idea, he did. With a loud pop, the short, loathsome, obnoxious, simpering creature that had locked her in the Malfoy home stood in front of her, barring any further escape.

Good. As long as he dealt with her, Harry and Draco were safe.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty Desdemona?" The high squeal in his voice made her want to curl up in a ball and cringe. "It's not nice to sneak away from your host, you know. It wasn't nice at all. And look, you've lost your lovely robes. You must be chilly. Red was always your color, you know. Brought out the highlights in your hair."

Desi wanted to be sick again. Somehow, she knew it wasn't because of the potion fiasco. "Yeah, well, I've been thinking of dying my hair. Black's a good color. Goes with anything. Whatcha think, Peter?"

_Please, let those two get somewhere safe. _

The only thing keeping her standing there at that moment was that lone thought. Well, that and the desperate hope that, by now, someone at Hogwarts was looking for them. Or her, at the least.

Pettigrew's eyes grew wide, and the expression on his face reminded her of a feral animal. With rabies. "No, you mustn't do that, lovely little Desdemona. Black doesn't suit you. Too colorful of a personality for that." He reached his left hand towards her cheek to brush away a lock that had slid from the braid, but Desi jerked away from the touch.

Pettigrew's eyes grew even wider at her movement.

In that moment, Desi felt the dark chill of fear sweep through her, and she shuddered. She couldn't help the involuntary act; all trace of rational thought left his face, and images of what could happen between that moment and whenever she was found flashed in her mind.

They weren't good images, either.

"I always thought you were special, someone unique, little Desdemona. So outgoing, so smart, so pretty and so lively. Even as a little girl, so lively. It was like you were so much more than the rest of us in school. Perfect Desdemona." He took a step closer and she stumbled back in response, her eyes closing in the split second that Pettigrew's hand flew out to grab her by the auburn hair he prized so much. With a yelp, Desi found herself falling to her right side, Pettigrew dragging her on the ground by his grasp on the end of her braid.

"So. You think you're too perfect for me, don't you, little Desdemona? Too special for someone like me. You weren't too good for whining, annoying Severus Snape back in school, were you? Oh, no, you weren't. Following him around like a kicked puppy. I had to watch every day as you tagged-along at his heels, wondering why I wasn't good enough to follow." Pettigrew was ranting as he kept hold of her hair and pulled her uphill by it, Desi kicking and scratching at his hand to no avail. "And when it wasn't Severus, it was my dear friend Remus. You can't tell me it was all tutoring and homework and friendship; I know better. You always had a taste for the outcasts, sweet Desdemona. You seemed to prefer them for some reason. Well, I was an outcast too." His tone suddenly raised, his voice a high pitched squeal. "Why couldn't you prefer me?"

Desi screamed as he dragged her over a log, her left shoulder catching a knot in the wood. He was insane. Completely insane. He was dragging her around a forest, screaming at her for things that happened over twenty-five years ago, and who knew what in hell he had planned for her when they made it back to the manor. She was screwed. Totally and completely screwed.

And there was no way help was coming. She knew it.

Another log jarred her shoulder, causing her to scream again. The pain in her shoulder was blinding her, her head ached from her being dragged by her hair, and Pettigrew seemed unfazed by any of what was going on.

* * *

"Where in the hell is she?"

The two students stood silent in shock and fear as they faced their professor, who looked pissed enough to take on Voldemort himself and win with hardly a scratch on him. Behind him stood their former professor, who didn't look as mad, but didn't look exactly thrilled to see them. For a second, neither could speak.

A step forward from a violent-looking Snape had both talking incoherently.

"She's in the forest somewhere."

"She made us leave her behind."

"Some henchman of you know who..."

"Pettigrew's chasing her..."

"...locked us in Father's apothecary..."

"...and she's sick from the potion..."

"STOP!" The lone word shocked both boys into silence. Snape's black eyes seemed to glow with anger, and Lupin was whiter than snow.

"Sick? From what potion?"

"Peter? Here? Where?"

Harry sighed deeply, trying to make his words coherent. "We came for the book Draco mentioned. We got here, Pettigrew apparated and took the book from us. He locked us in the apothecary, tied us up, and fed us something Drecorum called a Blocking Potion. He left to give the book back to Voldemort, and in the meantime Drecorum got loose, made another potion to counter the potion he gave us, and helped us get out. We had gotten into the woods when she got sick from the potion because she couldn't brew it or something, and then Pettigrew came back to find us gone. She made us take off because she was too sick to help us and the potion is still blocking us from magic." He turned to Draco. "Did I leave anything out?"

Draco thought for a second. "Scary guy steals book, locks us in apothecary, professor does contortion trick to get loose, makes a bad potion, throws her guts up, and decides to take on scary guy single-handed. No, I think you got it all, Potter."

"This isn't funny, Malfoy." Lupin turned even whiter. "Peter was after her? Or you two?"

Draco answered this time. "He said originally he was there for the book, but when he saw her, he went all weird and psychotic. He didn't want to take us to you-know-who right away. He kept making references to the two of them at school. It was weird, like she was his ex or something, leering at her and stuff. He ignored us most of the time, just kept staring at her, touching her cheek, acting like he was in love with her or something. Gross." He then realized what he had said, and who was standing six inches from him. "Sorry, Professor Snape."

Harry took over. "He said he'd hand us over to Voldemort when the timing was right. That he'd be back to check on us. He was fixated on Drecorum, though. He said he'd be back for her."

Lupin swore so fiercely that Harry and Draco stared at him, swapping looks that plainly read, 'so that's where Drecorum learned some of those phrases'. Somewhere in the words, Harry caught 'should've listened to Sirius' and 'if he touches her'. He didn't think he'd seen his honorary uncle this upset in two years.

Snape, on the other hand, wasn't following the conversation as well. "Pettigrew? Coming back for her? What in hell are they talking about, Lupin? And how is this helping us find Desi?"

"Because, Severus, Peter Pettigrew became obsessed with Des, especially after she left you and Slytherin. None of us understood why, but he had this idea in his head that after she and you fell through thin ice, he stood a chance. Remember, this was probably the only guy more hard-up in all of Hogwarts for a date than you. At least you had Des. He's not exactly mister sanity anymore since spending twelve years as a rat and then turning around and selling out to you-know-who. So, you have your girlfriend in some dark forest with a not-completely-stable blast from her past, sick off of some bad potion, and without the ability to use magic of any kind. At least we know what we're dealing with."

Snape looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Harry didn't envy him.

A sudden scream pierced the silence, causing all four to jerk, looking east towards where the noise came from. Within seconds, another scream rang through the air.

* * *

Pettigrew continued his insane ventings. "I can understand not preferring me at first. You were in Slytherin, after all. Not much time for me there, even if you were spending time with Remus. Studying, of course. Ah, but then you came to Gryffindor, and you spent even more time around me. You came and spent time with me and my friends. Did you ever know Sirius thought you were cute, but Remus talked him out of asking you out? He seemed possessive of you, little Desdemona. Always wondered why, if it was only a friendship. But I kept showing you how interested I was, and how much I cared. And none of it mattered." He stopped for a moment to look down at her face, terror etched in her eyes. The squeaky yelling voice was back. "It never mattered, did it?"

This didn't have anything to do with Voldemort anymore. In all honesty, it never had. Once he saw Desi, the plans changed. She saw that now.

In that moment, Desi feared for her life. He was crazier than she'd given him credit for being earlier. He was obsessed. She'd known that, years ago at school. She'd just not known what to call it. That day in the library years ago had scared her more than she'd ever told Remus. He'd always looked at her with those eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and rage. He'd always scared her, but she brushed it off then as her overactive imagination. Obviously, time and playing errand-boy for the dark lord hadn't exactly killed whatever thought Pettigrew had in the back of his mind twenty years ago. And now who knew what he was planning? All she knew was she hurt, she was scared, and she prayed like a Muggle priest that someone would find her before it was too late.

It was the last thought she had, as her head hit a rock jutting out of the ground at an odd angle, with a loud crack, knocking her into unconscious oblivion.

Still ranting to her about the past and how she'd wronged him, how the world had wronged him, Pettigrew finally reached the edge of the treeline. The damned bitch had cost him valuable time. He hadn't planned to have to go hunting her down in the forest. And where were those boys? He'd never be able to find them now. He'd been so giddy when he realized he'd be able to hand Potter over to his master so easily. His master would be happy, pleased, even ecstatic. Now she ruined that. Why couldn't she have just stayed in the room he locked her up in? It was his fault; he didn't realize he'd locked them into a potions room. Of course she'd find a way to get loose and to get out. She had always been smart and talented. Resourceful, making that potion in the dark, even if it did make her sick. Such a clever girl Desdemona had always been. Not just a pretty face...

With a final tug, he pulled her clear of the brush. It wasn't until her head rolled like a rag doll to one side that he realized she was unconscious.

This wasn't good. How long had she been like that? He'd heard her scream, that was a few minutes ago, but she wasn't awake. He slapped her face, trying to wake her up. Nothing.

This could ruin everything.

* * *

The pendant in Snape's hands began pulsing red. The sight of the flashing color caused the two professors to stop breathing and the two students to stare in confusion.

Snape spun around and began to walk directionless in the trees.

"Dammit, Severus, calm down!" Lupin grabbed the taller man by the shoulder, whipping him around. "She's still alive. We know that. But we don't know exactly where she is. What are we going to do, just storm around a bunch of trees and hope we find her?"

"Well, what do you suggest? Sticking around until this stops glowing at all? I'm not leaving her out there to die, Lupin!"

"So you're going to act irrationally and look for her with no idea of how to find her? Does that even make sense?"

The two men yelled at each other back and forth for a full minute until Draco Malfoy finally stopped them with a loud piercing whistle. They stopped mid-words to stare at their student.

"You two will be pleased to know that the fuzzy hole in my head vanished just a second ago."

Snape glared. "Is that all you can say?"

"And if that necklace is what I think it is, now that my head feels normal, I can turn it into a portkey to go save Drecorum. If you're interested, of course." Draco smirked at the pair, who looked as if he'd just announced he was Potter's new roommate.

Harry gaped. "You can make portkeys?"

Draco nodded. "Learned how studying for NEWTs. Practiced on a few things. How do you think I managed to nick the Ravenclaw shield from over their mantle a month ago?"

"It's illegal."

"Potter, you total twit, I'm in Slytherin, it's a nifty spell, and I mastered it, legal status notwithstanding." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You really are a do-gooding annoying snot sometimes, you know that?"

Lupin groaned. "Draco, portkeys don't work like that. Portkeys are in tuned to a place, not a person. You'd have to know where she is in order to make a portkey to go to her."

"No, you don't." Draco stood firm. "As long as you have something else that knows her. Something else attuned directly to her. Which, from the way you two are carrying on about flashing colors, I'm assuming that necklace does."

Snape thrust the necklace out at him. "How can you make this a portkey to get to her?"

"It has a Guardian Charm on it, right?" At Snape's nod, he returned the gesture. "It's linked to her. I just add the portkey spell on top of the charm, and it works. I've actually done it before, when I wanted to visit my mother without getting permission to leave school grounds. It's really easy..."

Snape was sick of the background on this little piece of magic. "Do it. NOW."

Draco pulled out his wand, tapped the necklace, and said the incantation for the Portus spell in a hushed tone. Within moments, the red pulsing bottle was suffused with a blueish glow, which then faded as quickly as it appeared.

"There you go. Touch the bottle and poof! You're there by her side."

Lupin stared at him. "Thanks for the theatrics. Now, since we all know I can't touch the chain, and the bottle isn't exactly that big, I'm thinking only two of us can make this work. And you two are not coming." He stared hard at the pair of teenagers who looked ready to object. "If Des risked her life to keep you two out of trouble, I'm not incurring her wrath when you show up. Now, Severus, ready?"

The other man glared, holding out the chain so Lupin could take hold of one side of the small bottle. Within seconds, both men vanished.

Harry and Draco stood alone again in a forest, the sun beginning to slink down toward the horizon.

"I hope you didn't screw that spell up." He glared at Draco's back; the other boy was facing east, where his house sat.

"Don't worry, Potter. I know what I'm doing. Sometimes, even I can do something right."

* * *

He couldn't drag her much further; not like this. She was dead weight; at least before, her struggling had helped a bit. It had lifted some weight off of him. But now, he needed her awake to get her back in the house.

Pettigrew couldn't believe his bad luck.

It got worse when he noticed the blood that had run down one side of her head. Lifting the hair he loved on her so much, he found the source; a gash on the back of her head, blood seeping sluggishly. She must have hit a rock or something. But that hadn't caused her to scream.

Her left arm at an odd angle to her body showed him what had. She must have dislocated her shoulder. He'd noticed she hadn't been using it when he caught up with her. She must have done it beforehand. Dragging her on her back hadn't helped.

It wasn't as if he'd wanted to do that. He didn't want to cause pretty Desdemona any pain. He wanted her perfect; charming and lively, like she had been when he first noticed her.

Not that she'd ever noticed him.

But he'd made her notice him that day in the library. No more ignoring him, no more snubbing him for his friends. No. That day, she'd been forced to really notice him.

If only Remus and Sirius hadn't interfered.

Kneeling beside her, he tried to get her to wake up. Slapping her face some more, pulling back her eyelids. Nothing was going to work...

"Get your hands off her."

* * *

"We're not seriously going to sit her and wait for the two of them to come back for us, are we, Potter?" Draco rolled his grey eyes at the boy wonder in front of him, who'd managed to pace a decent path in the dirt between two fir trees in a matter of minutes. "I mean, we're not going to listen to them, are we?"

"How do you propose we get there, Malfoy? We don't even know where they went. They took the portkey. Unless you have a way of knowing where they are, we'll never find them." Harry kicked another pinecone out of his way. "Besides, how much sense does it make, charging into something when we don't know what to expect?"

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor, Potter. Amazing how old Lupin said the same thing to Snape just before they left." He picked up a rock and threw it, watching it bounce off a tree trunk thirty feet ahead. "And like a true Slytherin, you saw how Snape just loved that bit of advice. Come on, you pansy, you can't seriously say you want to stand here safe and sound while they have all the fun?"

"Fun? You think this is fun?" Harry stopped pacing to plot Malfoy's murder. "This isn't my idea of fun. Playing Quidditch is fun. Skipping divination is fun. Teasing Ron about his almost-nonexistent relationship with Hermione is fun. This - this is not fun. This isn't why I came along in the first place."

"Oh, okay, I get it now. All those times you snuck out of the dorms after hours were painful through and through. Scared, Potter? Is that it? You can beat a mountain troll, you can beat Quirrell even with a dark lord plastered to the back of his head, you can fight dragons and merpeople and come damn near to beating Voldemort more times than we care to recall, but teensy weensy scary stalker guy is too much of a challenge? Or is it that you're too lazy and think you're too good to help when there are adults around? And they call you the boy who lived." Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "I am not scared. It has nothing to do with whether or not I can. But all the sarcasm in the Malfoy gene pool doesn't take care of the tiny little problem we have of not knowing where they are."

Draco grinned wickedly and winked. "What little problem?" In his hand, he showed Harry a ragged quill. "Nicked it from Lupin's pocket, amongst all sorts of other things he carries around, as I made the first portkey. I'll just do the same to this as I did to that necklace of Drecorum's. Take us right to them."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Pettigrew looked over his shoulder, reluctant to take his hand off of Desdemona's cheek. The voice sounded familiar, but he wasn't placing it. From the shadows, two figures approached him, wands out. One looked slightly recognizable, but the other he'd know anywhere.

"Remus, old friend." The panic in his squeaky voice was clear. "What are you doing here?"

"He said get away from her, Peter." Lupin aimed his wand directly at his former friend. Even from this distance, in the fading twilight, he could see the insanity gleaming in his eyes, just as Harry and Draco had described. Des lay sprawled on the cold ground, not moving. What had he done to her? And why wasn't she fighting him? Fear ran through him. "Get up and walk away from her, now. Before he does something you'll regret."

Peter refused to budge; instead, he turned back towards Desdemona, smoothing hair on her forehead.

_Let her be ok. Please._

"Des? Are you alright?"

Silence was his only answer.

"Des?" The worry in Lupin's voice shook the air. Still, no response.

Remus looked to his right, and saw a man perfectly ready to kill. Snape still had his wand pointed at Pettigrew, his eyes narrowed and his hand steady. In a fleeting thought, he could see why Severus Snape had been an excellent Death Eater. He was scared for his life, and he wasn't even the object of the man's pure loathing. The look on the pale, sharp-featured face was clear – if she wasn't alright, Pettigrew wasn't going to live.

Damn it all, he really did love Des, didn't he?

The thundering realization didn't make the situation any better.

"Peter, damn it, get away from her." Remus pleaded with his former friend to get away from the woman on the ground. "Please, Peter. Let us make sure she's okay. Please. Just step away from her."

Snape was silent.

Pettigrew didn't move. Instead, he took a cowering and protective stance over Desi's body, making sure that anything they tried to do to him risked hurting her. "She won't wake up. My pretty Desdemona won't wake up. She screamed, then she stopped. She won't wake up."

Lupin's blood boiled. What in the lowest depths of Hell had Peter done to her? He sounded like a madman. His pretty Desdemona? She'd never been his in the first place. Sirius had been right all those years ago. Peter was obsessed with her. And he'd never listened. Just like he hadn't listened when Sirius warned him that Peter seemed a little too weak-willed. Regret on top of regret. Not heeding Sirius' warnings had cost him two best friends. He wasn't about to let it happen to a third.

Snape stood glued to the spot, hatred and anger flooding him, but too scared to move with that lunatic so close to Desi. She had to be alive; she just was moments ago. He'd heard her scream. He knew that was her. What did he mean she wouldn't wake up? Damn it, why wasn't Lupin doing something? Didn't he know the moronic idiot? He glared at the werewolf, mentally screaming for him to get off his tail and do something about this.

"Peter, walk away from her. Let us look at her; maybe we can get her to wake up. Severus might be able to do something, but he has to be able to look at her." Lupin's left hand shook, but the right one was firm and steady. Holding a wand seemed to help. "Damn, Peter. Don't you hear me?"

A sudden rush of air from the other side of Pettigrew caused him to jerk away from Desi's unconscious body. All three men looked up to see Potter and Malfoy appear out of thin air, both boys holding a tattered feather.

That second gave Lupin the time he needed. "Immobulus!" Instantly, Pettigrew froze in place, far enough from Des to make life easier for everyone involved. The two men ran towards the woman lying, unmoving, on the ground.

"Desi!" Severus reached her first, checking to see if she was breathing. A faint rise and fall of her chest told him she was alive, but she wouldn't wake up. "Damn it, Desi, wake up!" Dried blood on her neck made him check her head, where he found a gash and growing lump on the back. "Bloody hell." Her left shoulder was dislocated; there were scratches all up and down her. She was missing a shoe, and her face was banged up badly. It looked like a clump of hair might be missing.

But she was alive. Alive and beautiful.

Deciding to not interfere with Des at that moment, Lupin spun around and raged at the pair of students. "Which part of 'stay right there' did the two of you combined not understand? What part of 'you're not coming' failed to sink in? You two are the most uncooperative and stupid wizards I've met since I was your age! And how in Hell did you find us anyway?"

Draco swallowed. "It was my fault. I stole a quill from your pocket. I didn't want to be left behind. This guy broke into my home and held me hostage. I wasn't going to sit by and let you two do it all." He looked over at Potter, an odd look on his face. "I made him come along. Don't chew him out."

Lupin simply stared. So did Harry, with jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Behind them, Snape tried every healing charm and spell he knew, which weren't many, but had been useful before. Nothing was working; she still wouldn't open her eyes. Damn it, how in the world was he going to get her back to the school unconscious? He couldn't apparate with her or use a portkey; the shock to someone who was unconscious could kill. No broom. No thestral. Not even a damned Muggle car.

Remus pointed his wand at Peter, undoing the Immobulus charm and replacing it with the Incarcerous spell. "Good. Now we can talk. What did you do to her?"

Pettigrew shirked. "I gave her a blocking potion. And... I dragged her here by her hair. That's all. I swear! No other spells. No charms. I don't know why she won't wake up."

"She won't wake up because you knocked her unconscious, you idiot!" Severus roared at the man who sat mere inches from Desi. "And I can't figure out why. Nothing in a Blocking Potion should be causing her to..." A light went off over his head as he peeled back one of her closed eyelids yet again to see that her eyes weren't dilating normally.

_Desdemona Drecorum, please tell me you weren't that stupid. Please tell me you weren't that desperate._

He stared at the two students. "You said she made another potion. What was in it?"

Potter and Malfoy looked at each other, each trying to remember the ingredients they'd brought her.

"Powdered root of asphodel."

"Dragon bile and shrivelfigs."

"Snake fangs."

"Mandrake juice and leech juice."

"And she didn't cook it?"

"No. There wasn't any time or any way. She only did it to get us out of there."

Snape's mind raced. "And it made her sick an hour later, didn't it?"

They nodded.

He winced. _Damn, Desi, you were that stupid, weren't you?_

That was why she wouldn't wake up. The damned asphodel. It would be the one ingredient in the potion that would stay with her even if she threw it all up immediately. Conscious, she'd be feeling drowsy about now. Unconscious, she'd never be able to wake until it ran its course. Making an antidote in the Malfoy home would take too long. And there was no way in hell he could apparate to her office and back to fetch one. Damned protections on the school.

Lupin stared at him, watching him fluctuate between paleness and red anger. Too bad potions were something he didn't recall in as much detail as other classes in school. "She's not good, is she?" Snape shook his head. Both adults were white as sheets.

"Is there anything you can do for her?" Harry stared in confusion at the two men, both of whom looked as if they had no idea what to do about the professor on the ground.

Lupin shook his head. Snape didn't bother to reply.

Malfoy stared at them. "What about the stuff in the bottle?"

Snape was starting to accept the perpetual confusion he'd felt all day. "What bottle?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "The one you've been dangling the whole time we've been here. The one glowing bright shiny red. The one that I'm willing to bet contains something that can help in this situation, if I remember events of the past school year correctly."

Lupin and Snape shared an expression of awe and shock; they'd both forgotten the charm, and what they'd made it out of. In one quick movement, Severus yanked the cork out of the bottle and raised it to Desi's lips, making the Acupartio Potion trickle down her throat. Once he was sure half the bottle's contents had made it down, he swallowed the rest himself. Instantly, his head throbbed in time with his pulse, and his shoulder burned almost as bad as his arm had after the transfiguration.

Still, she wasn't waking up.

"Come on." Severus slapped her a few more times, his head beginning to feel fuzzy and heavy, his stomach rolling. He could feel himself growing fatigued; he couldn't fall asleep, since it would leave Lupin to deal with everything, and the werewolf wasn't qualified to handle the quandary they were in right now. "Desi, wake up!" It was taking a great deal of effort to not pass out right then. He noticed her breathing had gotten shallower since taking the potion, her arms growing colder, and her lips had a faint bluish tint. Panicking, he shook her, lifting her entire torso up from the ground, her head lolling back. "Damn it to Hades' hell and back, Desdemona Morgan Dumbledore, if you die on me, I swear to the entire Greek Pantheon that I'll kill you!"

A couple of seconds later, Desi began sputtering and coughing, gasping for air. "Isn't that a little extreme, love?" She tried to smile up at the black eyes wide with fear and concern, but the sudden return to reality also brought back flashes of pain all over, especially in her head, causing her to wince instead. "I never knew you could kill a dead person."

He sank back onto his heels, finally taking in the deep breaths of air he'd been neglecting for so long. She was alive. She was awake. And now he let himself fully feel the aching and burning she was enduring at the moment. The pain in his shoulder and head was staggering. And that was only half of what she'd been feeling for hours.

Lupin heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed on the spot, sagging down near Pettigrew, who remained tied up, two young wizards with wands pointed right at him. Harry remembered well the last time they'd had Pettigrew in ropes; as much as he wanted to look over at Drecorum, he knew better. Pettigrew, on the other hand, shifted his gaze back and forth between the young wizards and the woman who'd regained consciousness next to him.

"How you feeling, little sis?"

Desi tried to raise her head to look over towards where Remus's voice came from, but she couldn't. It felt so heavy. Keeping her eyes open was a challenge in and of itself. She settled for letting her head loll to one side. "Like hell. Which is slightly better than you're going to feel come nightfall, so we'd better get our asses back to school."

"Wow. You're drugged, counter-drugged, dragged across the countryside by your hair, and whacked unconscious, and yet you still remember the lunar cycle. Damn, Des, you amaze me."

"I love you two, big brother." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of glass and silver chain peeking from Severus's fist. "Please don't tell me you drank the potion. Circe's Song, don't tell me you drank the potion." When he nodded, the swearing rained down upon all their ears.

"For someone who just came around from unconsciousness, your vocabulary is impressive." Severus avoided looking into her eyes. "You were growing cold and wouldn't wake up and you weren't breathing well and..."

"And now you can't do magic either, you complete and utter idiot!"

Well. That explained why his head felt fuzzy.

Lupin took out his wand. "Well, let me take care of one problem. Petrificus Totalus." With that, Pettigrew fell to one side, having not once twitched a muscle in all that time. "There, now we don't have to worry about him changing into a darling rat. Now, how exactly are we getting back to the school, considering we can't apparate there and you two can't do magic to save my worthless soul?"

Harry turned to Draco, begrudgingly confessing that the Slytherin could be useful. "You got another one of those nifty little toys of yours on you?"

Draco grinned. "No, but I can make one in five seconds. Where on the grounds would you like to go?"

Snape glared at his student. "Well, considering the condition your Potions teacher is in, the hospital wing might be a good start, Mr. Malfoy."

"Oh, yeah. Guess I should have come up with that one. You sure you'd not prefer somewhere more exciting?"

"No!" The emphatic reply came from the ground, sounding much like the Potions professor. "My shoulder hurts like bloody hell and I feel like I'm missing a chunk of my scalp. The hospital wing would be lovely, thank you very much."

"Your loss." Within seconds, Malfoy had taken a nearby rock and bespelled it, a blue glow settling over it. "One portkey to Hogwarts Hospital wing."

* * *

The jerking of the portkey caused Desi to scream as she hit the hospital wing floor, left side first. Having Severus land halfway on top of her didn't help matters any. From clenched teeth, holding back another scream as she pulled her shoulder while trying to get up, Desi barked orders. "Harry, go get my grandfather. Draco, go find Madam Pomfrey. Remus, there's an antidote in my cupboards for the potion Pettigrew fed me. Third shelf, left side, green bottle. It should be labeled. Yay for antidote studies with NEWT students. Please go get it."

Severus stood in amazement, watching her shake in pain, holding her left arm to herself, talking through a tight jaw. She'd just been through hell and now she was giving orders like she ran the school and nothing had happened to her. Just when he thought he knew everything there was to know about her, she surprised him with some hidden depth. It made him feel weak in comparison. "I'll get it. I know what it should look like." She turned pain-filled eyes towards him in gratitude. With a pointed look, he gave an order of his own. "Lupin, don't leave her side." The growl in his voice didn't escape the man. He nodded once.

Desi's blue eyes glanced toward the windows, which showed the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. "Remus, please tell me you've been taking your potion." At his nod, she exuded relief, despite still clenching her teeth.

Footsteps approaching the room introduced Madam Pomfrey. "Oh, it's you again. Can't you professors keep out of trouble? You're becoming more of a bother than the students. Between you and Professor Snape, I swear, I'm busier than if it were flu season."

Desi smiled. "I'm sorry, Poppy. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. I promise, I'll try extra hard to never set foot in the infirmary again for the rest of the year." The sarcasm, laced with humor, lightened the moment.

As Dumbledore rushed into the room, Harry close behind him, Desi's arm was finally being healed; the concussion and head wound already treated. "There, there now, Professor Drecorum. All better. How did you dislocate your shoulder anyway?"

Desi thought her grandfather was going to collapse. "Well, I was tied up at the time..."

That smart comment didn't help matters.

Thankfully, Severus arrived with the antidote just as her grandfather was about to begin his own rampage, which Desi snatched from his outstretched hand and choked down in one smooth motion, leaving enough in the bottle for him. Instantly, the fuzzy spot in her head died down again and the intense nausea subsided. Awake and in a world infinitely less painful, Desdemona Drecorum did what she did best. She organized the chaos that threatened to consume the room.

Well, second best. Maybe third. After all, her talent for swearing and her aim with potions bottles were impressive.

"Papa, you might want to contact the Order and arrange for someone to pick up that...creature." She pointed at Pettigrew, lying facedown on the cold floor, still magically petrified. "Remus, if I remember correctly, you have exactly twenty minutes to get to my office or apartments before you begin to transform. Choose one. Draco, thank you for your illegal portkeys, now hand them over and don't do that again. Sev, drink that already. Harry, can I have that parchment back?"

The room was filled with blank faces as the auburn whirlwind took control of the situation, ordering people right and left. Without comment, Snape choked down the remnants of the potion, instantly feeling his head return to normal. Harry fished in his pockets for the scrap of parchment that Desi had transferred the spell onto. Draco emptied his pockets under her watchful eye. Remus kissed her on the top of her head, hugged her gently, and headed for her office to curl up as a harmless wolf. Dumbledore turned to one of the paintings and quietly requested he send a message to the Order's night watch.

And Desi stood in the center of it all, just relieved to have the nightmare over.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Albus Dumbledore watched his granddaughter walk out of the room, escorted by the man who'd become her permanent shadow. He'd sent Harry and Draco to their dorms long ago, shortly after Lupin had been forced to leave. He'd stayed behind to witness Pettigrew's transfer from the school to the Order, under the careful guard of Alastor Moody and Arthur Weasley, who had both been shocked to see the man resting, frozen in place, on the floor of the infirmary.

"_Another Death Eater, Dumbledore?" A look of disbelief, a spinning eye taking in the view. "If only your granddaughter had become an Auror after leaving school. I don't think anyone else had this level of success with this little effort before."_

_A sigh. "You know that wasn't possible, Alastor."_

_A nod. "I was there, Dumbledore. I still regret having to be the one to give you the news. At least they died together; that's more than some of them got."_

_Twin tears falling into a long white beard. "Cassandra should never have become an Auror. Especially once we knew the truth. Once the news reached us."_

"_I remember trying to convince Cassandra Drecorum to leave the Aurors, especially after Desdemona was born, when Voldemort began threatening the Ministry. It didn't work. The woman had a temper, she did. Bright, talented, but temperamental. Something, it seems, she has in common with her daughter."_

"_That, Alastor, is an understatement of the highest degree."_

"_Does she know yet? The truth?"_

_A shake of an old man's head. A nod of understanding from another._

"_A terrible burden, knowing her destiny and having to keep her safe to follow it, Dumbledore. I don't envy you."_

"_Nor I myself, Alastor. I wonder myself if I did the right thing, sending her away."_

"_I was there that night too. You made the right choice. You saw her memory. She was marked, just as her parents had been. We kept her under lock and key and she still almost fell to you-know-who. You had to send her away. It saved her."_

_Knowing his old friend was right. Still hating the decision._

"_At least she caught Pettigrew. From what we know, he was the new second to the group. He should tell us plenty." The eye spinning wildly again._

Another fallen member of Voldemort's inner circle. Another close call. Another long day.

And now, finally, he'd convinced the one person who should have been clamoring for sleep, to find a place to relax. That had taken some work, since she felt obligated to begin analyzing the information she'd smuggled from the manor or work on interrogating Pettigrew. Damn her stubborn streak; entirely like her mother at times, his granddaughter was. He'd begged her to go and rest after she'd been healed and he'd been reassured for the hundredth time that she was well. She'd finally agreed, after loudly voicing her contentions that she was capable of staying and finally being silenced into a promise of resting until tomorrow. He knew where she would be if needed, even without her saying so; he was neither blind nor a fool. Experience had taught him not to openly acknowledge anything, as it would only lead to awkward moments and uncomfortable silences. All he wished for was her happiness, and everything he'd seen showed him she was happier than she'd been in years.

_One blessing in a world with too few. _

Seeing Desdemona alive and well had relieved more strain from his shoulders than he'd felt in ages. He'd been scared; a feeling he rarely had anymore. All he could think was that he had failed again in keeping her safe. She was all that he had left in the world, all that remained of Aurora, and Tobias, and if something had happened to her, it would have been his undoing. Watching that bottle turning red in front of him hours before, in his study, had been more than he could handle. He'd seen scenes from the last thirty-odd years of his life flash before him, as if the bottle flashed for his peril and not another's. After Lupin and Snape had left his office, he'd sank deeply into his desk chair, letting a tear or two fall onto the floor as he'd slipped into a state of self-directed anger.

_I should never have asked her to come to Hogwarts. _

In the next heartbeat, he knew that was beyond selfish of him. Look at the good she'd done while here. She'd reached the students, so well that many of the Slytherin students were defying their families. As hard as he resisted it, word of what Draco Malfoy had done had quietly spread. Instead of backlash, he'd been hit with a wave of like-minded students. Several Slytherin students had come to him, or other professors, carefully asking dangerous questions.

She'd done what he asked of her and more. Far more.

Despite the good, he'd had his own reasons for bringing her to the school. He'd selfishly wanted his granddaughter back. He'd needed to atone for sins he alone carried. And because of his arrogance, because of his own agenda, she'd been placed in a situation she should never have had to face.

She was right. What in the hell was he thinking? What possessed him to think he could do something as audacious as he had planned?

Seeing the fire in his granddaughter's eyes whenever she looked at Severus Snape, watching the way he instinctively guarded her in return, healed a part of him. He'd blamed himself for years for what had happened to his fourteen year old grandchild and the boy to whom she'd so completely given her heart. He remembered the day, her second year, when he'd carefully asked her why she felt such loyalty to the boy. All she could answer was three little words.

"_Because I do."_

So wise at twelve. So little he'd known.

Time and time again, Harry and his best friends had wondered, sometimes silently, often aloud, why he put so much faith and trust in Severus Snape all these years. Much of it had to do with the risk he'd taken to turn spy all those years ago. However, the real reason was, simply, Desdemona herself.

"_I'll do this for Desi. Only for her. God knows I have more to atone for with her than anyone else on Earth. If there's any chance of making things right with her, I'll do it. Even if it means my death."_

How could he ever have explained that to the young boy in whom all of the wizarding world expected greatness from? How to explain that a schoolyard crush and a broken promise were the ties with which the trust between headmaster and former Death Eater were created? How could he explain it to Harry when he never could tell his own granddaughter all these years?

He threatened the peace the two had forged with his plan. He placed Desdemona back into the heart of the war he waged with Voldemort. He risked the well-beings of more people than he realized. Everything he promised himself he would never let come to pass was waiting just beyond his reach.

He should never have asked her back to Hogwarts. However, the ultimate choice hadn't been his.

Sometimes, Dumbledore wondered what the students would say if they knew the thoughts that kept him awake at night.

* * *

"I still don't understand how you dislocated your shoulder."

Desi would forever be eternally grateful to Madam Pomfrey now that her left shoulder was back the way it was intended. Rolling her arm around, she stretched it and felt amazingly better. It was almost as blissful as when she'd taken the real antidote to the blocking potion Pettigrew made her drink. Her head was clear, both arms worked, and the concussion she suffered was gone.

How she'd missed wizard medicine.

"I told you. He tied us all up in the dark, and I had to get my arms in front of me so I could undo the knots."

Severus stared at her in disbelief. "And you managed to pull half your body through your arms?"

"Yes. Why are you so surprised? You know I'm flexible."

He stared at her again. Sometimes he wondered if she meant the double entendres that popped up in conversation with her, or if she really was oblivious to what she was saying. He couldn't tell.

Damn, she was good at the wide-eyed innocence expression.

Convinced her arm was fully recovered for the fifth time that night, Desi slid back underneath the black cashmere blanket and yawned widely. She was clean, injury-free, and safely curled up on the leather couch in Severus' apartments, watching flames dance in the fireplace. Candlelight flickered in dark corners, and a soft breeze played with the dark curtains, letting in glimpses of the full moon. All was well with the world. With a playful grin, she laid her head back against his chest, looking up to the ceiling.

He, in turn, looked down to stare into eyes whose blue color matched the sky before an afternoon storm. How had she done this to him? How in hell had she gotten so completely under his skin that he'd do anything for her? All it took was a look from those eyes, the smell of sandalwood, the sound of her laugh, the feel of auburn silk.

Tonight made him realize how much of a lucky bastard he was. It had never dawned on him before the last few hours had passed how unlikely it had been that she'd ever forgive him, how unlikely he would ever have seen her again, let alone be holding her in his arms right now. He was luckier than he deserved.

What he wouldn't give to take back twenty five years, to take that night out of history.

"Go on. Say it. You know you want to."

Her voice broke his reverie. "What should I be saying?"

Desi bit her lip. "Don't you remember? We were leaving for the manor. You told me you had a funny feeling. I told you to visit Trelawney. Any of this sounding familiar?" A nervous giggle escaped her lips. "I keep waiting for the 'I told you so' to arrive."

He didn't say a word.

Instead, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, burying his face in her damp, tangled hair. Memories and images raced through his mind, and he closed his eyes, trying to shut them away.

_Desi on the ground._

_Desi not waking up._

_The blood on the side of her head. _

_The blue tint to her lips._

He stopped himself. She was safe. She was here. This wasn't a dream.

Desi stopped giggling.

_Bloody hell, he was really upset. _

In fact, come to think of it, he'd been moody and possessive of her ever since she'd woken up. He'd barely let Madam Pomfrey look at her, he insisted on fetching the antidote himself, and when he had, he ordered Remus to look after her. Ordered. Without so much as a rude comment or a dirty look. When he'd returned, he'd hovered over her as if she would vanish in thin air. He'd stood by her for every second of her debriefing with Moody and Papa, and had been reluctant to let her do as much as take a shower alone.

Her amusement faded into wariness. "What?"

A heavy breath slid down her neck. Fingertips slid down to take her hands into his. "Desi, when we got there...when you wouldn't answer...when you didn't wake up...I thought..." The trail of words ended, silence surrounding the pair, as a gust of wind blew into the room, blowing out most of the candles in the room.

Desi didn't know what to say.

Pulling herself out of his arms, she turned to face him, taking his hand in hers and holding it to her heart. "I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm well. Alright? I promise, Sev. I'm not going anywhere."

He couldn't help it. Somehow, he wondered how true that statement was. He held her tighter still.

The last candle died, its flame fading in the breeze from open windows facing north, and still they stayed on the couch, silence blanketing them as he held her again, too afraid to let go.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

"I still can't believe we're contemplating this."

Albus Dumbledore stared over his desk, looking into blue eyes that haunted him. Would she ever know how much like Tobias she looked? He realized that it was likely she knew all too well. Even if he didn't remind her, others would, just as they'd done to her student over the last six years. It was inevitable.

He stared at the parchment she'd brought back with her, folded and crumpled after their long ordeal. He'd put off this discussion for as long as he could. The full moon had waned, his granddaughter had rested, and he'd finally puzzled out most of what the scrap of paper meant.

A page out of Tom Marvolo Riddle's personal notes. A page out of the textbook of dark wizardry. A page out of the biography of the darkest wizard to walk the world in a hundred years.

The price he'd almost paid for it made him shudder.

"Does it have to be a mark?" For the tenth time that day, Desi asked the question that haunted her dreams. What if it went wrong? What if it backfired? "Can't we find some other means?"

He shook his head, sympathy radiating from him. He was meeting with her alone for a reason; he knew this wasn't going to be one of their better talks. Weight settled on his shoulders as he gathered the courage to face her inevitable ire. "We've examined this for days, Desdemona. Minerva and I have contemplated all the positive and negative consequences. In the end, Voldemort chose to use a Mark to ensure that the spell lived within the person, hence why transfiguring the Mark causes such pain. Our version will be similar – the spell with live within the person. Hence why it has to be a Mark. We've decided on the method and the purpose. We found the way to modify the spell so that we can remove some of the less-desirable traits of the Mark and adapt it to use strategically. Harry will still be the focus, but we'll be able to communicate with each other through him. Ingenious piece of wizardry, despite the intended purpose."

Desi glared at her beloved Papa. "I still can't believe you think this."

Dumbledore reached across the desk and took her hand. "Little one, if I could change the past, I would do so without a second's reservation. If I could bring your parents back, if I could have stopped you that night, if I could go back and try to save Tom Riddle before he lost himself, I would do all of these and more. I cannot; too many lives have been altered irrevocably by these events. However, I cannot dismiss something useful because it was once used for wrong. If I had, you would not be as happy as you are today." He smiled at her, his eyes filled with amusement and knowing.

She actually felt herself begin to blush. "About that, Papa..."

He held his free hand up to silence her. "You have no need to explain yourself to me. As it is, know that I am far happier for the both of you than you'll ever know. To see you smile, to see him with something to live for, is a magic beyond any I see in the classroom." A bittersweet twinge struck him, remembering his own Aurora. He took her hand in his own, holding it for a moment. "I will say, however, that as Headmaster, I appreciate the discretion the pair of you used over these months. It has made my life easier, so far as the school's governing is concerned. And, as your grandfather, all I can say is how grateful I am that the past is the past."

His thoughts wandered to another conversation he had, mere hours ago.

"_You love my granddaughter. That much is clear to anyone with sight, Severus, regardless of what you want or are comfortable with."_

"_Headmaster, if you're..."_

"_I am not asking you to undo anything, Severus. For what little it may be worth, the two of you making your peace has undone damage I never thought would be undone. But I am concerned about one thing. What effect will your work for the Order have on your newfound peace with Desdemona?"_

"_What do you mean, Professor?"_

"_She has no idea what you do for us, does she? You have never told her about your spying on your old acquaintances in order to gather intelligence for the Order?"_

_Cold words. "You ordered me to secrecy about my work, Headmaster. I've kept that secret from her, regardless of my own conscience."_

_A tired nod. "Severus, I wish to ask one more thing of you, but I fear this may be too much for me to ask."_

_Quiet curiosity in black eyes. "What?"_

"_I want you to receive the Mark."_

_Silence. _

"_You know how she feels about..."_

"_Yes, I am more than aware, Headmaster. As aware as you are, I'd wager. I assume she refused."_

"_She neither accepted nor refused, Severus. I will not ask it of her."_

_A gasp. "She is not..."_

"_She has no choice in the matter, Severus. Her path has already been decided for her; all I can do is protect her until she turns down her road."_

_A dark glare. "What do you mean?"_

_Shoulders sagging under untold burdens. "I cannot tell you, Severus. If I could, I would. When it is time for you to know, you will know. But not until then. I'm sorry."_

Dumbledore slipped his hand out of hers to rise from his desk and offer a treat to Fawkes, sitting on a perch near the window. It gave him a moment to regain his courage. The smile in her eyes right now was about to fade.

"Desdemona, there is something we need to talk about concerning the Mark." He heard her chair scrape backward behind him as she pushed away from the desk, his back to the woman in the room, his eyes fixed on some faraway cloud floating on an unseen wisp of air. "Once the spell has been perfected and the criteria agreed upon, only a select group of people will be asked to carry the mark. You will not be one of them. I don't want you to receive it."

Desi fell back into the chair she was rising from. "What? You're kidding, right? I mean, after what happened with me at Malfoy Manor with Pettigrew, the very sort of thing you want to use the Mark to prevent from happening again, and you don't want me to have it?"

He turned away from the window to face his granddaughter. "I don't want you involved in this anymore. I want you safe. I want to fall asleep at night knowing you are not in any danger, and I have not done anything to put you in harm's way. I do not want to give Voldemort any more reason than he already has to come after you."

"Too late, Papa. I cost him two of his inner circle in the span of a few months, and I took away his means of revenge against the only one brave enough to turn his back on him. I've undone his work and I've found the means of replicating what he did. Do you honestly think protecting me from the workings of the Order is going to protect me now?"

A quiet voice echoed off silent walls. "No. But I will not willingly let you risk yourself further."

"Then you're being exceedingly selfish and narrow-minded."

"That is my right, Desdemona. You are all I have left in this world. I will be exceedingly selfish and narrow-minded where you are concerned. I have earned the right to a little selfishness, and I choose to use it on your safety."

The finality in his voice stopped the tirade Desi was about to launch. In the back of her mind, a student's voice rang clearly.

_With all due respect, Professor, maybe you should see it from his point of view._

He'd lost his son and daughter-in-law to Voldemort. He'd spent twenty one years without his grandchild. He'd carried guilt and remorse over every student he'd ever taught as they fell, one way or another. He'd worked tirelessly, without complaint or request, to ensure the safety of as many innocent people as he could. He felt personally responsible for neglecting the student who eventually caused the chaos in which they lived.

Her Papa had earned the right to be selfish. He'd been selfless one time too many.

As much as she hated it, as much as it intruded on her rights, she didn't see the purpose in pressing this point. She owed the man before her so much; would it really cost her that much to bow to his wishes? Was it wrong to heed her grandfather this once?

"Alright, I won't wear the mark." The response cost her humility and pride. "For you. Only for you. But I'm still involved with the Order. I will not sit idly by and watch what happens. I will not hide. I deserve that much."

He nodded. It was fair. He'd been responsible for instilling her sense of duty and purpose; he couldn't ask her to stop now. "Thank you, little one." He held out his hand to the woman who he loved with all his heart, and as he felt her slip her hand inside his once again, he couldn't help but see the eleven year old girl she'd once been, the one who had made a rash decision that decided her entire destiny.

"_Why did you ask the Sorting Hat to place you in Slytherin?"_

"_Papa, they were teasing him. He needs a friend. Remember, you told me to look out for people who needed me. He needs me, Papa. He looks like he needs a friend more than anyone I've ever seen in my life."_

"_Your life hasn't been that long, little one."_

"_I know, Papa. But if the Sorting Hat disagreed, why would I be in Slytherin now? Isn't it his judgment in the end?"_

He'd never been able to answer that question for her.

He hadn't been able to do a lot of things for her. However, he'd protect her from any more harm with his last breath. It was the least he owed her. Especially after he told her the rest of what he needed to say.

* * *

The warm weather allowed Desdemona the chance to do what she hadn't done in twenty-five years. Most of the students were in Hogsmeade for another weekend, or off doing homework or spending time getting into mischief. This meant that she could sit, alone and uninterrupted, under a trio of pine trees off by themselves near the lake.

It felt odd sitting underneath them again, staring at a sight that hadn't seen much change in all these years. It brought so many things full-circle, and put her in the mood she needed to be in; calm reflection.

So many things to consider. Where to begin?

_Start with the biggest, Desi dear, then build from there. _

Her father's voice spoke to her in the back of her mind. Moments like this, she missed her parents desperately. They'd been so wise. Granted, her father had been referring to building blocks when she was three, but the words had always made sense for every other problem she'd dealt with in the years since.

Alright, the biggest problem. Her and Severus. What was going to happen to them? Was she going to stay here and teach Potions forever? Was he going to stay and teach defense? What did the future hold for them? So many questions that neither of them had asked aloud. He said he loved her. The words she'd longed to hear so many years ago had changed things forever for her. She couldn't walk away from him. Not again. He'd always be part of her from now on. Then again, he always had been.

But what did that mean? She couldn't even begin to answer those questions. What did she want in life? She'd spent twenty years in America trying to answer that, and failed miserably. All she'd wanted was to come back to the life she'd always known. For so many of those years, with scarce visits from her Papa and fewer still from others in the wizarding world, she'd watched life drift by, her cauldron and potions her only refuge. She lived vicariously through others, letters from the few old friends she had filling in for her the gaps in time. Students she'd gone to school with getting married, having families, living their lives. Eventually, losing their lives.

Her physical safety had meant an end to most of her dreams. No wedding day for her, no children, no place in her world. Not even living with American wizardkind, out of fear and protection. Just herself, a cauldron, and an occasional visit from a familiar face.

And endless nights' dreams laced with anger, bitterness, fear, and loneliness.

This wasn't resolving anything for her. This was a conversation for two, not for one. What did he want? Was it too soon to ask? Could he walk away from her? Where did they go from here?

On to another problem, since that one was nowhere near resolution.

Their discussion last night after the meeting of the Order had been unusually calm for the two of them. He would receive the Fire Mark. That's what they'd begun calling it, for lack of a better name. She hated the name, and she hated that he'd been asked to wear it, but understood why. Sev was important to the Order; he'd almost inevitably be in the middle of everything when all was said and done. Of everyone in the Order, he alone knew what they were getting themselves into, and he had been the loudest voice in discussions surrounding the ethics of the Fire Mark, which was unusual for the man who usually kept silent while letting others banter about details. He was in the inner circle, those few chosen to bear the Mark. The Light Bearers. Honestly, who came up with these inane names anyway? Desi suspected Tonks came up with that one. It sounded like some drivel she'd invent.

The Mark was close to being perfected. Minerva McGonagall had been spending every available moment working on it, trying to make sure it didn't affect animagi or metamorphmagi. Harry would be the focus; he would be the one who knew where everyone was and possibly how they were, but he would not be the only one who could call others to him. Definitely no torture; that one had been an unspoken given. A tool, so that what happened in the Ministry two years ago never happened again.

Some people wondered why Desi herself wasn't receiving it. Sev mentioned it when they talked after he returned from the most recent meeting. A couple of people were uneasy with the younger Dumbledore remaining markless. Many of the rest just assumed that, given her family history, she was hesitant to do so. A few even whispered it was because of her temper. She never once said a word to change their minds. Her grandfather wanted her safe, needed her safe. She now knew why.

She needed to stay alive.

Sometimes, her responsibility was more pressure than she needed.

Desi sighed, sitting under the shade with pine needles surrounding her, the bark digging into her back. She still hated the Mark. She still hated the idea of having something new burned into Sev's flesh, something that could take him away from her again. But, at least this time, it could be undone.

Now that she'd finally emotionally resolved that conflict in her mind, it was time to tackle another. What to do with the Slytherin rebellion? In the last few weeks, a round dozen of the students in Slytherin House had quietly been rejecting their parents' lifestyles. She felt personally responsible for all of them; it had been her lecturing during Defense classes first term that began this shift in power in their house. Reinforcing their decisions had been several small episodes, such as the rumor of Lucius Malfoy's capture, and the still-widely-discussed attack on their head of house. All of these points, plus the advancing of age and experience and conversations with others, had led them to decide that life would be better lived by choosing another path. Only two people in the entire school knew who all twelve were; herself and her grandfather. Not even Severus knew who they were, and he was their head of house. They'd all been given a choice: stay in this world and pretend to be what they weren't, or go into hiding as Desdemona herself had once done.

Several had taken the second option. Safe houses in other countries were being prepared for them to go to once the school year was out. A pair had created a third option, deciding to work with the Order once they graduated; they'd already provided the Headmaster with a wealth of intelligence without realizing it, simply by letting things slip when talking to him.

Only one had chosen the most dangerous route possible. Draco Malfoy had decided to stay by his mother's side. The toll of her husband's absence, plus the as-yet-unexplained destruction of her property, had caused Narcissa Malfoy a wealth of stress and heartache. Draco stubbornly refused to cause his mother more pain by leaving her or openly working against the man his father pledged allegiance to so many years ago. Besides, as he reminded Desdemona, he wasn't going to be suddenly perfect and righteous. He preferred to make his own decisions, not serve as a lackey to either side, thank you very much. He'd spent the last few weeks working on the inevitable masquerade he would undertake once leaving the school, convincing most of the students that the rumors about himself that they heard were fiction. He'd managed to persuade the school that he was still the cruel, twisted, cold Draco Malfoy they'd always known, and any comments about his shifting to a Gryffindor frame of mind had been greatly exaggerated. To his credit, he'd done this so well that Desi herself occasionally forgot.

What was so dangerous about this route was the inevitable pressure that would come about to follow in his father's footsteps. Voldemort's Death Eaters were waning in number. Besides the obvious loss of Malfoy and Pettigrew, who was now spending his time in the St. Mungo's ward for criminal and insane patients after recovering from the removal of his mark, three more had been captured separately by the Ministry, their marks transfigured as well. Already, some students had been pulled from the school and their house, evidently to begin their careers working for Voldemort, including Draco's former best friends Crabbe and Goyle. Eventually and unavoidably, Draco Malfoy would be asked to make a decision that could irrevocably change his life.

She prayed that day would come as late as possible.

Harry's scar had caused him another hospital stay, after Voldemort realized Pettigrew wasn't returning. This time, Desi had felt such intense guilt that she'd remained by his side for the entire time he laid in that bed. It was her fault, indirectly, that he felt Voldemort's wrath. Five Death Eaters gone. Five Marks removed. Five less people to draw strength from. Voldemort was weakening. His plans called for change. A small victory for the Order. Not that it lessened her guilt any.

The sun began to slide down the sky, and still she sat by the lake, feet asleep, contemplating worries or images that had haunted her mind, oblivious to the fact that she was being observed from a window in the astronomy tower by a man dressed in black who had learned by now when to give her the space she needed.

* * *

"It's time, Desi."

She looked up from her office desk, covered in scrolls of homework from the third years' recent lessons into healing potions. Not having windows in her office took away the ability to tell passage of time by sunlight. The man in her doorway was uncharacteristically nervous. It made her smile impishly, albeit briefly, to see him fidgeting so much.

He in turn had to bite his lip to not chuckle. A smudge of ink lined her cheek and her auburn hair tried to escape the loose braid she'd woven it into. As she sat at her desk, Severus had the disconcerting memory of her at thirteen, the two of them studying in the library for exams, her second year and his sixth. She looked now a lot like she had that night.

The first time Desi told him she loved him.

"_You're never going to learn anything with that attitude."_

"_Excuse me, Severus Snape. You're a fine one to talk about attitudes."_

"_What's that supposed to me, Desi?"_

"_Well, you spend every waking moment acting as if you have to prove your self to every single person you meet. You're rude, condescending, and about as friendly as Professor Treguna's pet raven."_

"_I do not."_

"_Sev, you do. Why do you think the Marauders treat you the way they do?"_

"_The who?"_

_A bitten lip. "Um, Potter and Black and Pettigrew."_

_A sneer. "Don't forget your little tutor Lupin in that group."_

"_Fine, whatever. You know, they'd leave you alone if you stopped acting like such an insufferable know-it-all."_

"_You don't know what you're talking about, Desi."_

_Rolled eyes. "You just proved my point, Sev. Bloody havens, why did I decide to fall in love with such a disagreeable jerk?"_

_Silence. A dropped quill. A matching jaw. "What did you say?"_

_Wide blue eyes. "Um, probably shouldn't have said that."_

"_Desdemona..."_

"_Fine. I love you, Sev. There. Happy now? Of course, now you're going to give me a list three scrolls long of reasons why I'm stupid, insane, or foolish. And a list equally long of reasons why you don't deserve anyone loving you. So, let's save the paper and just agree to disagree and get back to our work, because, unlike you, I actually care whether or not I pass transfiguration. You don't have a grandfather who taught the subject."_

The memory still made him stop breathing for a moment.

She pushed away the quill and parchment and rose from her desk, stretching her arms. "Are you ready?"

He shook his head as he walked towards the desk, meeting her halfway. "I'll never be ready to undergo something like this."

Desdemona stared at him, searching his black eyes for some hidden depth. "I know. I'm not exactly thrilled you're doing this either. You don't have to, Sev. Papa won't make you do this. If you're not comfortable..."

He raised a finger to her lips to silence her. "I have to do this, Desi. I'm in the inner circle for a reason; I'm the only one in the Order who understands exactly what this means. I don't look forward to this, but it is the responsibility I decided to bear years ago. I left my life to serve your grandfather and his cause; I can't turn back on that vow now."

The tone of nobility did little to ease Desi's heartache. "Well, then. You'd best be off. I know Papa and Harry left an hour ago."

Severus reached up to wipe away the lone tear that escaped her vivid blue eyes. "You're not coming?"

She shook her head. "Papa forbade me. He said I didn't need to be there." Her lower lip trembled, despite her best efforts to stay calm. "I think he's right."

If he could, in that moment, Severus would have changed his mind about receiving the Mark, only to spare her pain. If he could, he'd stop time forever, living in a moment where he loved and was loved in return, where nothing could harm either of them, and where he could spend every moment staring into those eyes and hearing her laugh.

Some things were out of his control.

Instead, he bent down to lay a soft kiss on Desi's wavering lips, his left hand smoothing away errant strands of hair from her face. She pulled away and looked up at him, eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I'll see you when you get back." With finality in her voice, she gestured towards the door. With hesitation, he finally walked through the threshold.

Within moments, she was alone in her office yet again, too upset to grade papers. Instead, she left the room, walking around the castle until she came to a window that faced the Quidditch pitch, where she could sit and stare blankly outside into the moonlight, blissfully uninterrupted.

It wasn't meant to be.

"Professor Drecorum?" A quiet voice called out from the middle of the hallway, causing her to turn her head to see a familiar face framed by bright red hair. Ron Weasley. Part of her was surprised to see him alone; she never saw him without Harry or Hermione at his side. At her nod, he timidly approached her.

"Ron, what can I do for you?" She worked on pulling herself together; it wouldn't do to have a student see her so upset.

Ron began wringing his hands, fidgeting much the same way Sev had been doing moments ago in her office doorway. "Professor, I was hoping...oh, never mind." He turned to walk away, stopping in his steps at the clearing of her throat.

Desi sighed loudly. "Ron, is there something you want to talk about?"

He slowly turned to face his Potions teacher, barely nodding as he did. "I just – well, I don't know what to say, really, but I was hoping that maybe you would."

The sheepish look on his face made her smile. "Come on. Let's go to my office. We can talk there." Leading her student back to the room she'd left moments ago she forgot, for a moment, her own melancholy, focusing instead on the stress and concern she'd seen etched in the young man's face.

Once inside her office, she shut the door and offered him a seat. "Would you like to give me an idea of what is on your mind tonight, Ron? Or shall I begin guessing?"

Ron fumbled with his hands some more, trying to find the words he was looking for. He didn't know what had made him call out to Drecorum in the hallway; some voice inside him just told him to do it. He didn't want to admit how worried he was right now. Somehow, he had a feeling she understood. But he still didn't know how to say so.

Desi reached into her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a pair of butterbeer bottles, handing one to the nervous young man in front of her. "You're worried about Harry, aren't you?"

He simply nodded. Words didn't come close to expressing how he felt. This wasn't the same as when he worried about Ginny when she was in the chamber with the basilisk. He knew then why he was scared for her. This was different; it was vague and unreal and intangible and unexplainable. All he knew was that his best friend was going to have to face danger; real danger, not simply running-around-the-castle-at-night danger. And he couldn't always be there to help. He felt useless and bitter and frustrated all at once.

Sometimes, bluntness had its virtues, Desi thought as she opened her own bottle and took a sip. "Ron, you're his best friend. Frankly, I'd be concerned if you weren't worried about him, given what's going on tonight. Which, knowing Harry, you know all about, even though you're not supposed to." A guilty shifting of his weight in the chair confirmed that guess.

Ron looked up finally, feeling brave enough to voice some of his worries. "It's more than that. Professor, Harry's my friend. I've known him since the first train ride to Hogwarts. It hasn't always been the easiest thing in the world, being the best friend of the boy who lived and all. Sometimes, I wish I'd chosen to sit somewhere else on the train that day; it would be easier being friends with Neville or Seamus. And then I feel horrible thinking that, because he doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault that he's going to have to face you-know-who someday. Some days, I hate him because he's so important and everything. But then I see him when he's at his worst, when he has you-know-who in his head or he has to go through something he hates because it's best for everyone else, and I feel so guilty. I know it's not his fault that all of this is what he deals with. But sometimes, I don't know what to do besides smile and nod. I don't know how to help, how to make it easier or be more useful. And this is totally not making any sense..." He trailed off, mumbling, staring at a spot on the floor.

Desi set down her bottle with an audible thump and faced the young man sitting before her, all pretense of a professor-student conversation gone. This was now a talk between equals; Ron needed that right now. "Ron, you're making sense. Not the most coherent sense, but sense nonetheless. I'm not going to pretend that I know everything that Harry is going through, but he and I have talked. He feels as retched as you do right now. Some days, he worries about how his friendship will affect you and Hermione. Some days, he feels guilty about dragging you two into these problems. But he has told me, on more than one occasion, that having you two as friends has been one of the best things about the last seven years. Without you and Hermione, he really wonders how he would have made it. Ron, don't sell yourself short. The role of the best friend isn't always easy when the friend in question has to deal with some problem larger than you can fathom. One day, ask my best friend about it; I'm sure Remus could tell you stories about worrying about me and what could happen eventually."

A look of slight relief and gratitude crept across Ron's face, wrenching Desi's heart. She knew the toll that the inevitable future was taking on Harry, but foolishly, she'd forgotten to account for how it would affect those closest to him. Now she understood what her grandfather meant by regret.

"As for doing something more than smiling and nodding," she sighed, reaching again into a desk drawer. She couldn't believe she was about to do this. Desi pulled out a small bottle of silver liquid and handed it to the red-haired Gryffindor, who stared at it in confusion. "Sometimes, all a best friend can do is be there to share the pain when necessary." At his dumbfounded expression, she smiled sadly. "You never know when sharing the pain will be the only way to save your best friend."

He looked at her, understanding finally creeping into his eyes. Ron knew what was in the bottle; he'd gotten one just like it for her, once, last term. He only hoped he'd have the courage to use it if it ever came to that.

"I feel bad sometimes, because I don't feel like I'm much use. Like, Hermione's really smart, and Harry's really brave, but sometimes I wonder why I'm even around. And then I feel even worse, because I wonder if I'm useless. And sometimes I feel jealous, and sometimes I feel guilty, and sometimes I don't even know what to do about how I feel. I don't want to lose my best friend, Professor, and sometimes I feel like, in the end, I will."

"Ron, your loyalty is your purpose. Don't you think knowing he has a friend like you makes things a little easier for Harry? Don't you think it makes him that less fearful, knowing that you would be there for him if he really needed you? It does. More than I think either of you will ever know. And as for losing your best friend, no one can answer that. I know it worries me, and it keeps my grandfather awake at night, knowing a seventeen year old boy is asked to shoulder responsibility that would make grown men shudder. However, if you dwell on something that may never come to pass, you will only harm yourself, and Harry, in the end."

Desi stood up and rubbed her tired eyes. Waxing philosophical was exhausting, but at least it gave her something to focus on while something she disagreed with was taking place hundreds of miles away. "I'm probably making as little sense as you feel like you're making, Ron. I'm sorry. I know this – Harry needs you. He will need a best friend now more than he has in all the years he's been here. He needs someone loyal and dependable, who will keep him grounded and sane and aware of how his decisions affect those around him. He needs someone to help him laugh occasionally, someone to remind him he's still a human being. There will be moments when the responsibility that's been heaped on him will be too much, and that is when he will need you the most. Don't discredit yourself in the least, Ron Weasley. In the end, you may find yourself more important than you ever dreamed you would."

He sat quietly for a few minutes, the silence between the pair heavy but comforting. He took in everything Drecorum said, trying to understand it all. How it fit in with what he already knew. How it made sense given seven years of friendship. How it still made him uneasy, but less so now. He hadn't known why he stopped the professor in the hallway, but now he was glad he had. If nothing else, his conscience was eased somewhat.

"I wish they weren't doing it." Ron whispered, unaware he'd even spoken aloud. "I wish they had chosen something else. I wish he didn't have to go through with it."

Desi knew exactly what he meant by that. "Ron, you're not alone in that thought."

Ron took that moment to really look at his professor, whose voice was laden with fatigue and quiet frustration. Harry had been right – she really was against this new mark; this decision affected more people than just his best friend. It showed in the chill in her voice, her sudden clenching of her fists, and the sag in her shoulders.

She didn't approve of it either. Somehow, knowing this made him feel less guilty for not supporting something that affected his best friend so much.

Both teacher and student remained in the room, silence their only companion, somehow gaining relief that there was another person who shared their sentiments.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

For the second time in his life, his arm burned painfully, the flesh feeling as if it had been branded with a heated iron. For the first time, however, he fully understood what had just happened to him.

In the back of his mind, he felt a hazy and indistinct sensation, as if part of him was reaching out beyond his own body. It was a feeling he'd never fully understood until a few weeks ago. He'd felt it for over twenty-five years, but never fully understood it. Instead, the naïve child he'd been had accepted it blindly as part and parcel of pledging himself to Voldemort's side.

It was that feeling that had made the Dark Mark such a destructive piece of magic.

It was also the feeling that made the Fire Mark so useful. From now on, Severus Snape was linked to six other people. The strongest of the links he felt existed between himself and the student he had spent years loathing but quietly protecting.

Seven people wore the Fire Mark, the image of a phoenix rising above a lightening bolt. The two most recognizable symbols of the Order of the Phoenix, old and new. The youngest bearer was the one that served as the focus, the center of the complicated spell weaving them all together. To his credit, Harry Potter seemed to be bearing the burden well. More so than anyone should have expected from a seventeen year old boy. It made his limited respect for the boy grow a slight more, especially after he pulled him aside before he left.

_At least he had a conscience. It was more than any of us did._

The ceremony, thankfully, had been brief and uneventful. No major production or spectacle; just a room of nine people, quiet and morose. Even Tonks managed a sense of dignified silence. The marking took as little time as Minerva McGonagall could manage it. There was little speaking and even less lingering once the marking was complete.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was the only other person in the room not bearing a mark of his own. As with most things, he gave no explanation, but simply presided over the gathering with the quiet dignity that they had all grown to expect from the reserved force of a man before them.

If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn the look that Albus Dumbledore bestowed on him as he left the Order was one of painful regret and grief.

All he wanted in the world was to come back to Hogwarts. To come back to Desi. To find peace and solace in the only place on Earth that he ever had found either of these traits.

Dusting himself off as he stepped from his fireplace, he noticed a scrap of parchment lying next to his apartment door. Puzzled, he walked over and snatched it from the carpet.

_Come find me when it's over. Where I first found you._

No signature. Then again, Desi had never needed to sign her notes. She was the only person he'd ever known who neither addressed nor signed anything she wrote. It had driven her professors insane. Snatching his cloak from the arm of his couch, he strode out his door, his feet quickening as he followed a path he knew too well.

He found her in the one place on the whole grounds that he'd been left alone, until one day in September when an eleven year old girl with happy blue eyes had whirled into his life, steadfastly refusing to leave him alone.

The trees by the lake.

She stood under the three pine trees, wrapped in a cloak, half the hair from her braid loose and floating in the light breeze. The moon hung in a starless sky, clouds covering some of its light.

Desi didn't even turn when she heard his footsteps. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes never leaving their view of the ripples that danced on the lake's surface. "Well?"

Severus sighed, his breath hanging in the air between them. "It's over."

She let go of the breath she'd held ever since hearing him walking towards her. Desi knew how selfish she was feeling about the whole thing. It was his decision, not one for her to make, not one for her to take from him. Besides, Harry needed him. The Order needed him. She couldn't keep him to herself forever. "And?"

He took a few more steps to close the distance between them, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "It doesn't feel the same as before. It hurts, but it's different. Potter's spending the next few days at the Order with your grandfather and McGonagall. Tonks managed to not break anything. Molly's furious at Arthur for agreeing to do this. Moody's thrilled with the vigilance it gives the inner circle."

"And you?" The question barely escaped her lips.

He stepped behind her and gathered her into his arms, her back fitting against his chest, his chin resting in her hair. He hated Dumbledore for putting him in this position. He hated having once been young and stupid; it was for that very reason he now wore a mark of another sort, almost perfectly over the site of the original. But, most of all, he hated hurting her; it was worse this time, because he knew exactly where her feelings about the topic came from. He'd ripped open that wound again, just as he'd done at eighteen. She didn't deserve this pain.

He didn't deserve her.

"It's not worth your unhappiness, Desi, for what it matters. I did what I was asked to do. What choice did I have? He asked me to do this; after eighteen years, could I say no this time?"

Hot tears trickled down her cheeks at his words. He couldn't say no to her grandfather any more than she could. He never asked anyone to do anything unless it was absolutely necessary. One of the self-imposed rules he'd placed on himself years ago, to limit the future regrets he'd feel. He would never have done this to them unless he needed Sev to bear the Mark.

The thought did little to dull the pain.

Did he have any idea of the fear that she carried in her heart ever since the first time her Papa had mentioned the idea? Did he know she only agreed to help find the solution because she was sure it would convince them to walk away from the fool's idea? Did he ever notice her jerking awake at night, visions of terror and heartache filling her dreams?

Did he know she was scared that, once Voldemort learned what they had done, he'd find a way to repay them? That the payment could separate them forever?

She'd pined for twenty-five years. Hadn't that been enough?

He held her close to him as she wept bitterly, hating herself for her self-centeredness, hating the world for making her feel so guilty for not wanting to share, standing underneath the very trees where their paths first crossed.

* * *

He had been prepared for the pain in his arm. He had been prepared for the ethics of bearing the responsibility of being the focus. He had even been prepared for the emotional outburst Mrs. Weasley had before the transfiguration took place. But Harry Potter had not been prepared for the spider web of connections to other people in his mind.

He felt as if there were six rubber bands stretching from his mind to six distinct points. Four of those points were still in the room: Moody and Tonks were preparing for night-shift and Lupin and Mr. Weasley were lingering in the room to keep him company since he was staying with the Order so he could get accustomed to everything in his mind. A fifth point felt far away, which made sense, as Kingsley Shacklebolt had left immediately for the Ministry of Magic. The sixth point also felt distant, but in a completely different direction. Which shouldn't have been a surprise; Snape had gone back to Hogwarts almost as quickly as Shacklebolt had left. Almost, but not quite.

_A voice at his ear. "Potter, a word."_

_Standing by the fireplace, facing a man who, until this year, despised him. A man who had become a tenuous ally._

_Harsh whispers. "I doubt very much that you're as prepared as you think for this responsibility, Potter. I doubt if you even now have a glimmer of understanding. This isn't something to be taken lightly. This wasn't something that even Dumbledore could have explained to you completely. You have the opportunity to play God now, Potter. Do yourself a favor – don't."_

_Looking up into black eyes, cold and dark. "I never wanted this. You know that."_

_A flash of respect in the face of the man before him. "Then make sure you never do, Potter. Because the day you decide you want this is the day that all of this begins to fail. You will be tempted. You will be tested. You will be tried. Never want this, Potter. It will consume you if you do. Trust me."_

_Fear, respect, understanding, sadness, regret – all flashing in a moment of silence between student and teacher._

Harry felt more alone than he had in years. This was more than having a tool to use against Voldemort or being able to call people to him in a time of need. This was more than balancing the playing field. He could feel them in his head; not enough to know what they were feeling, but aware of them nonetheless. Six people who he could sense if he thought about them. Six people whose whereabouts he knew for certain. Six people whose lives he could affect with just a thought and a gesture. Snape was right; he had the power to affect these peoples' lives; he had the chance to play God.

Now, more than ever, he hated himself for agreeing to this.

From across the room, Remus Lupin stared at his former student, who gazed intently at a spot on the wall. He hadn't moved since his whispered conversation with Snape, which worried him. He had an idea of what the man had said to Harry; they'd had their own conversation earlier in the evening.

"_Where's Des?"_

"_Dumbledore asked her not to come." A cold stare. "You know she's not happy with this plan."_

_A tired sigh. "And how will this affect you and Des?"_

_A gruff reply. "Why do you care?"_

"_Because, she's my dearest living friend and I love her, Severus. She's not happy with this, but you're still doing it. What toll is that going to take on you two?"_

"_You're going through with this too."_

_A twinge of pain. "I'm not the one she gave her heart to, Severus. You are."_

_A deep silence between two men, years of loathing and distrust clashing with the need to work together; for the Order, for Harry, and for Desdemona's sake._

_Avoiding the question asked. "Potter's not ready for this."_

"_He's as ready as anyone can make him, Severus."_

"_No, he isn't. I haven't talked to him yet." Regret mingling with doubt in a tired voice._

Remus knew what he meant by that, but he didn't say anything. When the former Death Eater had lain unconscious in a hospital bed, Des had cried on her big brother's shoulder, spilling secrets that, had she been calm, would never have been spoken aloud. She rambled about memories of his she had seen, nightmares of his from when he wore the original mark. The guilt, the hate, and the self-loathing he carried inside. The way he'd felt like a puppet. The torture he went through when he rediscovered his conscience. And those were just the memories she gleaned from the potion. They didn't include the pieces of regret and sadness that they'd shared in conversation over the last few months.

That was the turning point for Lupin. Never before that night had he thought about the effect being a Death Eater had on the man. Whenever he looked at the greasy-haired former Potions Master, all Lupin saw was the lonely, brooding child he had mercilessly teased for years in school. Until Des had convinced him to stop.

He'd known the risk he took years ago to leave Voldemort, but he'd never known the depth to which the decision haunted him. Sometimes he forgot that the boy he'd teased in school had grown up over twenty five years, had experienced a side of life he himself could never imagine.

Maybe Des wasn't as insane for loving him as Remus thought.

Lupin rose and walked over to the young man, laying a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. Instead, he received the brunt of the frustration Harry felt right now.

"Why did you all agree to this? Why did you go through with it?" Harry turned eyes cold and empty towards his friend, the man who had offered him a shoulder to vent on for years. His father's friend; the only one left. All he could think in that moment was how he now had the chance to hurt his father's last remaining best friend.

Remus looked at Harry with eyes filled with understanding. His friend's son. The only living legacy to what four friends had shared at school years ago. And with one choice, the Order had stripped him of what was left of his childhood. They'd asked Harry to make a decision that no student, no young person, should ever have to make.

Severus was right. They'd done a horrible job of preparing him for it; he could see that now.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in an absent-minded way. "You've seen what Voldemort will do to hurt those in his way. You know the prophecy. You know that, in the end, it will come down to you and him. There's nothing any of us can do to change that. But we can use every available means to keep you alive and safe until that day comes."

Harry felt the weight of Lupin's words on his shoulders, already bearing down on the guilt and responsibility he already carried. His voice echoed these burdens. "Snape's right. How can I do this? I'm not ready. I can feel you in my head. Did you know that? I can feel Snape, if I think about him hard enough. I can tell you he's tired and cold and worried about something. It might be vague and fuzzy, but I can do it. I can feel him, Remus. I can feel all of you. And I'm expected to call you all to me when I'm in need? So I can feel you die? Feel you hurt? I don't know if I'll be able to do it. Just seeing Sirius that night...I still have nightmares about that, Remus. And I didn't have him in my head. What if it's your death I feel? Or Mr. Weasley's? I can't do it..." His voice trailed off, the young wizard feeling completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few hours.

What answer could he possibly give to those questions? Swallowing hard, Remus looked the young man firmly in the eyes. "Harry, I can't answer you. I can't tell you what you want to hear. I don't know how. I agreed to this because it was the most logical of all the illogical ideas we came up with. None of us are happy with this; don't let yourself think otherwise. We all hate putting you through this. You're too young and it's not fair and it's a huge responsibility to place on your shoulders. Why do you think Des fought it so much? She doesn't want to take your childhood from you. None of us do. But that choice was taken from us years ago. I'm so sorry, Harry."

He had known the risks of joining the Order. So had James and Lily. So had Sirius. But, in the end, none of them were prepared for the price of peace.

How could they expect Harry to handle that burden when they themselves couldn't?

Part of Harry wanted to scream at the man before him. Scream and yell about how he hated being so damned special and important, about how he was sick of being pitied and looked after, and about how he was tired of the sympathy and the regret. The other part of Harry, the voice that seemed to have grown in volume over the year thanks to long talks with his professor, spoke up finally. _Is there any lie or manipulation in what he's saying? Is it his fault that Voldemort did this to you? Is it their fault that this prophecy exists in the first place?_

Harry could only answer himself with one word. No. With a sigh, he quietly walked away from the man who had become a friend over the years, and headed upstairs to the room prepared for him.

* * *

Students no longer spent time outside in the sunshine that finally came to the countryside. Instead, they lingered in common rooms, libraries, classrooms, and every available nook and cranny as if Dementors were patrolling the grounds again. Professors looked haggard, assignments grew lengthy, and the infirmary was filled with patients dealing with stress.

Exams were coming to Hogwarts.

In her office, Desdemona struggled to work on exam material. It was hard; she knew what she had covered, and she had an idea of what Severus had taught, but what to test them on? What was fair? Did she really expect them to remember all these potions?

How was she expected to focus on her work with all the distractions going on in the world around her? Her grandfather had been growing more and more distant over the last several days, shutting himself in his office and rarely knocking on her office door to chat like he used to. Harry had been slowly becoming more social since the transfiguration and marking; the first weekend back from the Order had been hard on him, but with prompting, he sat down for a long heart to heart with his two best friends, who somehow made him feel a little less alone and bitter. The latest piece of intelligence on Voldemort's actions was less than good; something was coming, but details were thin.

And the one thing in her life that should be constant wasn't; ever since he'd received the new mark, a chasm had begun to grow between the two of them. Ever since that night, he'd kept his distance, keeping her at arm's distance, not perpetually following her as usual. No more long talks, no more meals together courtesy of kind house-elf catering. Hell, she'd slept alone for the first time in months since that one.

She was afraid everything had changed completely.

"_Des, love, don't worry about it. He's probably just being grumpy; he wouldn't be Severus Snape if he was cheerful all the time, you know."_

_Sighing at her big brother. "It's beyond that. It's as if he's trying to push me away. Why? Why now?" Tears fighting to fall. "I thought this was behind us."_

_A long, deep silence. "Des, the past is behind you both. This isn't the past coming back to haunt you."_

_Choking on a strangled cry. "What makes you so sure?"_

"_Because the man would kill or die for you. Without hesitation." Sad eyes staring from flames. "He loves you, Des. More than I ever thought possible from someone like him. He hates himself for deciding to go along with this, because he knows it's breaking your heart. He made that clear that night. He could be pushing you away to spare you."_

"_Spare me what?"_

"_More heartache. Des, if things go badly, none of us in the Order are safe, and the inner circle even less so. I think Severus may feel you've cried enough tears on his account."_

She had enough to deal with as it was without this on top of things. What made him think he had a right to decide whether or not she'd cried enough tears? Hell, what made him think he needed to protect her? She wasn't fourteen anymore. Just because she didn't support this choice didn't mean she didn't understand the logic. At least this time, he made the choice with more forethought, more conscience, and more honor than the last time. And it wasn't her place to support it or not. It was her place to support the person who made it.

And as for protecting her, it was a joke. What made him think pushing her away would keep her safe, when she was as involved in everything as he was. She would never know safety and security again in her life. Not from Voldemort. Not from her own guilt. Not from Sev's misplaced sense of duty. And certainly not from her future.

That fear weighed on her more than anything. Her future. Why did it have to be her?

It wasn't her grandfather's fault. She knew that. It hadn't been his decision to make. He was merely the bearer of the news. Not even the whole news, either; he could only tell her bits and pieces. She wouldn't know the rest until the Secret Keeper revealed it to her. The little she did know pressed on her shoulders immensely.

Wearing the Fire Mark might have made her safer in the long run.

* * *

In another room in the castle, her counterpart paced, his ire at the lackluster homework assignments the third years had turned in fueling his frustration with himself.

He missed her. He missed her smile, her voice, her eyes first thing in the morning. But he couldn't stand holding her in his arms, knowing he was only hurting her all over again. She deserved so much better in this world. She deserved happiness and laughter. Things he couldn't give her. He'd spent the whole school year lying to himself.

All he wanted was to spare her. Holding her that night, standing under trees he'd both loved and shunned, he realized how important she had become over the months. How important she'd always been. He'd loathed himself most of his life; his childhood had made sure of that. However, he'd never hated himself so much as he had that night, when he'd managed to shatter her fourteen year old heart. He spent years trying to convince himself it was nothing more than a silly childish crush, and that he was better rid of her.

Too bad he'd only been fooling himself. It had taken only the mere mention of her name to convince him to finally leave the path he'd begun walking at seventeen. The mere thought of her had been enough for him to agree to the insane idea of an old man who was weary with regret and loss. The smallest chance of rectifying the past had given him new life that day when Dumbledore told him she was coming back to Hogwarts.

The fear that had gone through him that day in the Potions classroom, when she swallowed that damned potion in front of him. The panic when Potter came to get him the night she'd gone after Malfoy. The abject horror on seeing her unconscious and barely breathing on the ground. All because of him and that damned choice he'd made one night, stupidly and rashly.

The fact that Desi had never been able to tell him about her parents. How she carried guilt about her own mistakes. Knowing full well she didn't support the most recent insane idea of her tired and overly-burdened grandfather. The implications that the Fire Mark carried with it. The phoenix and lightening bolt on his arm reminded him of twenty five lost years, while at the same time serving as an omen of more lost years to come.

He couldn't put her through it again.

He hated himself for being so cowardly.

"_So, you're pushing Des away? Again?"_

"_Leave me alone, Lupin."_

_The voice in the fire not leaving. "Not until I either knock some sense into you or I get to finally bite you like you deserve. She doesn't need or want your nobility, Severus. Not right now."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_I don't know. There's something weighing on her, but she's not talking about it. But you've got her upset, worried she did something wrong."_

_Thunder in his voice. "But she didn't!"_

"_How is she supposed to know that if you're trying to drive her away?"_

"_I'm trying to protect her, damn it!"_

"_Are you really this inept with women? Des doesn't want you to protect her, Severus. She doesn't want safe, she doesn't want secure, and she doesn't want happiness and light. For some inexplicable reason, she wants you. And pushing her away because you're worried about a fate that may never come is not what she needs right now. She needs to be whole, to know that the past is dead and resolved, and she needs you. I swear to Merlin, if you don't snap out of your self- pity and misplaced sense of duty and take care of my little sister, I will personally end your suffering, and to hell with the consequences."_

She was destined for only more pain, more tears, more hurt. He didn't want that for her. He sure as hell didn't want to be the cause. She deserved so much better. So much more. She deserved a life filled with only the best. He couldn't offer that.

However, it wasn't his choice to make. It was hers. He knew he should walk down the hallway to her classroom and tell her. He knew he should tell her everything he felt and let her make the final decision. He knew he should let her hear his thoughts.

Instead, he stayed in his office, glaring at the rolls of parchment littering his desk.

He didn't know what to say anymore, let alone how to say it.

* * *

In yet another room in the castle, an old man looked around his office, picking out a book here, placing an object on a shelf there, watched by a phoenix and conversing with a shabby looking hat.

"I will miss you when I leave, my old friend."

"And I as well, Dumbledore." The hat's voice resonated in genuine respect and admiration. "If I may be completely honest, you have been one of the greatest headmasters it has been my privilege to counsel."

Albus Dumbledore actually bowed in the hat's direction, wondering if he could see the action, as he gathered the few personal affects he was taking with him. Many of the objects littering the room were left over from previous headmasters, but some items were precious to him, and even though he was leaving the school, he wanted them nearby.

Where he was going, few items could travel with him.

The hat became curious. "Will you tell them, Dumbledore? The students? The truth, I mean."

Dumbledore's eyes filled suddenly with tears. The students. He would miss them. Their wide-eyed wonder. Their insatiable curiosity. Their brutal honesty and blunt objectivity. The students of Hogwarts had been his life for decades.

How could he tell them the truth?

"No, old friend. Allow them to think I am merely retiring. They need not know the truth. They don't need to know I'm fleeing Hogwarts rather than leaving of my own free will." As he spoke the words, Fawkes left his perch to be at the side of the man he'd known for years, offering a sympathetic note of phoenix song and companionship, as he'd done on so many other occasions.

"And Desdemona? What does the heiress know?"

A lone tear streaked from his blue eyes to land in his white tangled beard. Having Desdemona back had been a precious gift. Having to let her go again would rip him apart, but it was necessary. He needed to leave the school; for the students, for the Order, and for his only grandchild. "She knows only that she is the heiress. She will know the truth soon enough. It is better for her to learn the truth, all of it, on her own. She doesn't need an old man's feelings to color her perceptions."

"A wise decision. From you, I would have expected no less."

No small words of praise from the Sorting Hat, who had known headmasters of the school for a thousand years. Dumbledore was touched more deeply than he could ever let the hat know.

* * *

In London, another man sat alone, in dark solitude and isolation, old memories running through his mind.

"_Why are you picking on him?"_

"_Des, stay out of it. It dates back to our first year here, which is years ago already. Besides, he deserves some of it. Now, let's go over this chapter..."_

_The slam of the heavy Transfiguration book. "You are going to stop, Remus John Lupin. And you're going to stop now."_

"_Des, what's it to you?"_

"_He's my friend, Remus. Same as you. And if the two of you don't cut it out, I will lock you both in the Vanishing Cabinet in the fourth floor west corridor and not tell Papa what I've done for three whole weeks."_

"_Desdemona, you wouldn't dare."_

"_Try me, Remus."_

_The glare across the desk showing her sincerity._

"_Why, Des? Of all the people in this school, why is he your friend?"_

"_I like making friends with weird people. Explains why I'm friends with you. Besides, you spend so much time teasing him that you never thought to get to know him."_

"_Oh, really. Ok, wise one, what do you know?"_

"_He's smart. Brilliant, almost. And I should recognize brilliance, considering my grandfather is the most brilliant man alive right now. What you take for arrogance is really his insecurity. I know he hates himself as much as you hate him. I know he envies you and your friends more than he'll ever admit. I know that he has never had a real friend before I came along. Everyone in his life either wants to hurt him or use him, and it's wrong. And I know that, deep down, he's not as completely detestable as you and your cronies have convinced yourselves he is. So there."_

_Complete shock overtaking him._

"_Alright, Des. If I promise to stop, will that make you happy?"_

"_Maybe. We'll see."_

He still didn't know what possessed him to confront Snape after Des had floo'd him, frustrated to the point of tears. All he knew was that she was upset, conflicted, and unhappy, and the cause of all her unhappiness wasn't going to do anything about it because he lacked the common sense required to do so. If that man possessed an ounce of cognitive ability when it came to dealing with relationships, his little sister would never have left Slytherin. Would never have lived with the Order. Would never have been forced into hiding in America.

A world of things would never have happened.

"_Remus? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night."_

_A pain sharp in his heart. "Des, there was an incident at the Ministry. You-know-who lured Harry there. There was a fight..."_

"_And? Papa?! Is he alright?"_

"_He is, Des. But..."_

"_But what, Remus? What the hell happened?"_

"_It's Sirius, Des. We lost him."_

_Catching his little sister as her knees gave out under her. _

_Feeling her shaking in his arms. Hearing her sobs begin._

_Knowing just how much she mourned. Knowing the secret Sirius had accidentally shared one night while in his cups. Knowing he could never let her know he knew._

_Mourning the loss of a man who was like a brother to him. A friend who he'd lost once, and only recently found again._

_Grateful to have someone to share the pain with._

Sirius had been one of the Order members Dumbledore had asked him to serve as a discrete bodyguard for Desdemona when she was not in school. He knew Des trusted Sirius and Remus, and wouldn't suspect them of keeping her company on someone's orders. But Dumbledore never knew how close the two grew in the little time they spent together. Few people did. That had been Sirius' doing; he rarely made friends, preferring casual acquaintances. To let others know he befriended Desdemona Dumbledore would have caused endless talk and speculation, not to mention awkward Order meetings and assignments. Better to keep some things quiet.

Dumbledore had wanted to send her an owl with the news. In the end, he'd asked Dumbledore to let him tell her personally. It was, after all, the least he could do for her.

It wasn't the first time he'd held her as she cried her heart out. And he was hell-bent on ensuring he didn't have to do so again any time soon.

It was, after all was said and done, the reason he'd decided to confront Severus moments ago.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Forget her students' finals. Forget grading. Forget everything.

Desi raged in her office. Three days of the not-quite-silent treatment. Three days of his slinking away when her back was turned. Three days of excuses and reasons and turns of phrase. Either that man was going to get over whatever twisted mind games he played with himself or she was going to Azkaban for performing an Unforgivable Curse.

And right now, it was anyone's guess which one it would be.

She threw down the quill she'd been using to mark the final assignments from her various classes. Most of them were passing grades anyway, what would it hurt if she didn't look at them as diligently this time around? The final exams were easy; have them pick a potion she'd made them concoct during the school year from memory. Even Neville could think of something he'd gotten right.

That decision made in her mind, she took a deep breath. What to do about Severus?

Inspiration came from a memory.

"_Leave me alone, Desi."_

_A twelve year old auburn-haired firestorm. "Not until you tell me who pulled that mean trick, Sev." _

"_What are you going to do? Keep me in this classroom until I tell you?"_

_Pulling out her wand and pointing it dead at his chest. "Well, since you suggested it."_

He hadn't thought she'd do it. Then again, he never did give her enough credit.

With a wicked grin and a light in her eyes that hadn't been there in days, Desi flew out of her office and headed to her apartments.

* * *

Two hours later, as darkness fell and a quiet came over the castle, Severus finally headed back to his apartments, alone again. Slinking down the hallway from his office and classroom, he noticed Desi hadn't been in hers, like she'd been the last few nights. He had been tempted to stop at her apartments, but cowardly backed away before he'd gotten halfway there. With a sigh and kicking himself mentally, he opened his door.

A piece of parchment sat on his coffee table, which had been empty just that morning.

_You have a choice to make. Either walk out your apartment door and head to mine, right now, or stay here and wallow in your own misery. _

Crumpling the piece of parchment, he threw it in the fire and headed to his bedroom, deciding to not play along with Desi's games.

Too bad she was sitting in the exact middle of his bed.

"What in bloody hell..."

Desi silently rose off the mattress and stood directly in front of him, chin jutted high to look him in the eye, which wasn't always easy given a seven-inch height difference accentuated by her bare feet. "If you'd picked the first option, I would have just floo'd myself back home. But I know you. You would only come to me when you finally realized I wasn't going to come to you. So, here I am. And I'm not leaving this room until you and I decide what the future holds for us."

He simply stared down at her angry blue eyes, too confused to speak.

She had a feeling that was going to be his reaction. With a deep breathe, she sat back down on the mattress, curling up on the edge of the bed, tucking her legs under herself so that her toes barely peeked out, hoping her relaxed posturing would calm him down a bit. "The future, Severus. That pesky thing you and I have danced waltzes around for months now. What happens once the school year's over. What happens a year down the road, or five years, or ten. What happens when the sun rises tomorrow. The future. The conversation you and I seem to have silently agreed to avoid until it grows so large it can't be ignored anymore. That day is finally here, Sev. We can't ignore it anymore."

"I'm not ignoring anything." The nerve the woman had sometimes boggled him. Granted, it wasn't the first time he'd come home and been surprised by seeing her in his bed, but she'd never used it as a battlefield before. And judging from the stiffness in her spine and the fire dancing in her eyes, she was prepared for war. The look she shot him made him repeat himself in defense. "I haven't been ignoring this, Desi."

"Liar." The small word cut through the air. "We both have. For months, every time the chance arose, you and I both found a reason to avoid the conversation. We kept deluding ourselves into believing that there'd always be another chance to talk about it. Another chance to decide how we want to approach the subject. Another chance to let the other person open their mouth first. There are no more chances, Sev. Not anymore. It's now or never. We talk now, or I walk out of this room, and the chance walks with me. I can't take this tightrope walk anymore. I need answers. I need thoughts. I need to know where I stand."

His head spun. Where was all of this coming from? Why now? Why tonight?

_There's something weighing on her, but she's not talking about it. _

That line had bothered him from the moment Lupin said it. Desi didn't keep secrets from her best friend. She had kept secrets from him, but never from Remus Lupin. As much as he'd hated it, she could confide more easily in the werewolf than himself sometimes. But something bothered her, and she hadn't even discussed it with her big brother.

Either it was something she couldn't talk about, or it was worse than he could imagine.

"Why tonight? Of all nights in the year, why this one, Desi?"

Her eyes dropped from his face to the carpeting at his feet, her shoulders slumping and the straight spine of hers going limp. She'd known he would ask that question. She'd spent the better part of an hour trying to think of an answer. None had come to her.

"_Papa, this is crazy."_

"_Crazy or not, Desdemona, the time has come. For more people than just myself."_

"_What's that supposed to mean, Papa?"_

"_Don't play coy, little one. It doesn't suit you. Time has run out, the hourglass is empty. It rarely happens that so many fates converge on a single moment in history. But, it does happen. And it is happening now."_

"_Papa, I love you dearly, but playing Oracle of the Delphi with me right now..."_

_A smile. "Sometimes, Desdemona, questions need to be asked aloud. Even if no one wants them asked. Necessity sometimes outweighs desire or preference."_

"Because it needs to be."

"Well, that reason is lacking. Could you be more specific?"

"No, I can't, Sev."

"Can't, or won't?"

She finally pulled her eyes from the floor to his face for a moment. He deserved the truth, what little she could give him. "Seriously, I can't. I'm repression-charmed. Even if I wanted to talk about it, I can't. Not yet."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Severus was beyond confused. Charmed? To not talk about something? That would take more than a powerful wizard. That would mean it would have to be someone she trusted enough to do that to her; that wasn't a common or easy charm to use. Who could do that to her? Who would dare to do that?

The answer came in a flash. Only her grandfather. Only Albus Dumbledore.

What was going on?

"So, you can't talk about it, but it affects us, and we need to decide our future this very minute because it affects whatever secret you've got locked away in your little mind. Is that an accurate picture of what's going on?"

Desi nodded. "Well, not this very minute. But yes, basically, we do need to make some decisions. For starters, is there even a future for us to talk about, Sev?"

The simple question made him roar. "What kind of question is that, Desi?"

"One I desperately need answered, Sev."

The quiet shaking in her voice stopped him from proceeding with his tirade. For the second time in the last ten minutes, he heard Lupin's voice in his head.

_She needs to be whole, to know that the past is dead and resolved, and she needs you._

For the first time tonight, he looked at her. Not glanced at, but deeply looked. For all of her confident bravado, the dark circles under her eyes and the bitten fingernails showed how stressed she was. How did she let herself get like this?

A light flickered in his mind. Because he pushed her there. He'd been giving her distance since the night he got the Fire Mark because he thought that was what she needed. She had been so upset and distraught that night, crying as he held her for what felt like hours. She'd been so distant after that, after she'd gone to visit Dumbledore, as if she knew the world was going to end tomorrow, so he did the only thing he knew to do. He left her alone.

Because of that, she thought he didn't want her, didn't want forever with her.

Maybe he was inept with women, after all.

Mechanically, he walked towards a shelf on the wall, picked up a slender crystal vase, and withdrew a twenty six year old flower. Handing it to her, he glared down into her eyes as she sat, curled on the bed. She wanted answers? Fine. He'd spell it out for her then, like a first year with a simple pepper-up potion.

"I broke your heart, and then spent twenty years trying to compensate for it. You ran away, but when I needed you most, you risked your life for me. You forgave me the unforgivable and asked me to do the same. Beyond expectation and logic and common sense, I fell in love with you all over again. The very thing I couldn't bring myself to admit to you when I was a teenager came so easily now." His voice grew hoarse as words he'd thought a thousand times but never dared speak aloud for fear they would be his undoing came forth in a rush. "I would have not gotten this mark if you'd asked me not to. I would leave the Order if you begged me to. I'd leave this school and risk my life if you demanded it of me. Maybe I've never said it in words, Desi, but I thought it showed. I want to be with you, Desi. Do we have a future? You tell me."

He had expected tears. To her credit, none fell from her eyes. Instead, a deathly calm seemed to cloak her face; a calm belied by her trembling hands. "I thought you were trying to push me away..."

He wanted to smack her. Instead, he knelt by the edge of the bed and took her shaking hands in his own. "Desdemona Drecorum, I swear you're going to give me grey hairs. I want to be with you. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and maybe even the year after that. Tonight, Desi, and the rest of my life, short though it may end up being. That doesn't mean I'm not going to hate myself for the rest of eternity for every time you cry because of me. Or hurt. Or throw things and break them. For the first time in my life, I have something precious and perfect and wonderful, and I'm scared I may lose it or hurt it or not deserve it. That doesn't mean I don't want it, Desi."

She sniffled, looking so much like the little girl he once knew that it took his breath away. "You mean it?" He nodded, refusing to tear away his eyes from hers.

Desi sighed, finally letting the emotions she'd been holding inside of her start to show. She had fought for self-composure; the last thing she wanted was for her tears to sway him in any way. He'd told her he loved her; that he wouldn't leave her; that he wanted to be with her. Forever.

Would he still say that in the morning? Would he still say that when he knew what she knew? Would he still be by her side when the truth came out?

Right now, she didn't care. Tonight was forever enough for her.

* * *

An old man and a werewolf sat in front of a crackling fireplace, seated in comfortable purple-cushioned wing chairs, both unsure of how to break the silence between them.

Remus Lupin's mind reeled. He couldn't believe the request that Dumbledore had just made of him.

"_I want you to be the Order's new secret-keeper. I cannot do it any longer, and I cannot give a reason why. Just trust me when I say it is both necessary and a heartache for me at the same time. Someone needs to stay here, to keep the Order intact and whole, and I want it to be you. Can you accept this task, Remus?"_

He was still trying to answer that question.

Sitting next to him, Albus Dumbledore sighed wearily. The last few days had been filled with nothing but preparation and planning. The news he had received still weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Voldemort knew Desdemona had returned to England. He knew that she was his granddaughter. He knew she was at Hogwarts. He even knew that she had reconciled with Severus Snape. The pair were officially marked for death, one for abandoning his Master, the other for interfering in his plans.

That wasn't the worst of the news. The rest had come in a direct message to Dumbledore, carried to him discretely, as all direct communication between long-standing enemies should.

_It's not your granddaughter I'm after, old man. She is merely a pawn in this game, used by both of us to strike at the other. A weakness for you, a tool for me. The more you shield her from me, the more I will use her to get to you. I thought I made that clear years ago. Perhaps you need reminding. As long as you protect her, know this: I will hunt her to draw you out. Just as did with her parents. _

He had an idea about how Tom found out about Desdemona's return; his attacks on Lucius Malfoy, as well as on Severus himself, probably gave him the pieces he needed. Simple intelligence filled in the gaps. He himself had ended the charade about her identity, since the damage had been done. Since receiving this missive from the man who called himself 'Lord Voldemort', he'd planned his flight from both Hogwarts and the Order.

His disappearance could give them a protection that his presence couldn't. The fight between him and Tom Riddle was personal. It always had been, for over fifty years now. In some ways, Tom Riddle grew and matured, deepening and darkening in ways that haunted Albus' dreams. In other ways, he was still the sixteen year old boy he'd taught. The one who felt personal insult at the extra attention accorded him by an old man who wanted only to help him.

The personal feud between student and teacher had not created the man who threatened to tear the wizarding world in twain, again. However, it did fuel the fire. The attacks on Tobias and Cassandra were personal, to remind the new Headmaster about the pain family can cause. The threats against Desdemona, herself, during school were meant to convince the older man to back away from his fight to protect the students. Now, the message was different.

_Your role in this chess game is over, old man. Let the prophesy be fulfilled, and let the end to the tale come. You are not important anymore; stand aside and let the Chosen One fulfill his destiny. If he can._

Soon, if would be up to Harry and Harry alone to finish the tale, once and for all. The pain of the inevitable future weighed down his very soul.

Remus coughed once, looking into dancing flames with a look of sorrow in his eyes, not wanting to interrupt the headmaster's thoughts. "Why me?"

Dumbledore found himself unable to look the wizard he'd known for years in the eye. "Because, I trust you completely. Because you have the respect of every member of the Order. Because you are in the Inner Circle. Because Harry depends on you more than any other member. Because you are more qualified than anyone else I could ask. And, most importantly, because you of all people understand the burden I'm asking of you."

He'd been afraid that would be the reason. Oh, yes, he understood the burden all too well.

"_Remus, Sirius, I need to ask the pair of you for a favor."_

_Two heads nodding, waiting for their former headmaster to speak._

_A tired sigh from a man they respected. "I need to ask the two of you to protect my granddaughter. You both know her; Remus, you've known her for three years now. She will trust you, and will never question your presence with her whenever she leaves school grounds is anything less than friendly visits. I cannot always watch over her, so I need someone else to do this for me."_

_A look of confusion on Sirius' face. "Why does Desi need protecting, Dumbledore?"_

_An expression of fear etched on an old man's face._

_Understanding dawning in Remus' mind. "Voldemort knows, doesn't he?"_

_A nod._

_Sirius' voice rising. "Is this about Snivellus joining the Death Eaters and breaking Desi's heart? Or about Desi being his granddaughter? Because if it's the former, I swear when I get my hands on that slimy git, I will personally..."_

"_SIRIUS!" The voice silencing the over-excitable young man. "It is both, the latter more than the former. Voldemort won't likely use the boy to get to Desi, but it is possible. However, he has made it clear that my grandchild is a pawn he is willing to use to get to me. While she is still in school, she is safe enough. However, on weekends or holidays, when I am often not available..."_

_The thought left unfinished. The pain shining clear in his eyes. The voice shaking._

_The thought of so many lives unfinished already racing through Remus' mind._

_The two friends agreeing to this request._

"How soon?"

"Very." The one word hung between them as if it could divide the friends and collaborators forever.

Des had to have known this was coming. Damn. Hadn't her heart been broken enough times by now? He knew how much the old wizard meant to her; he had been her only family for most of her life. Leaving her grandfather had driven her to depression once. Losing him again wasn't going to be easy for her.

Remus swallowed, hard. "I wish you could tell me why you feel the need to leave. However," he silenced the man he'd respected since he was eleven, "I understand you must have your reasons. And since you were never a man who kept secrets except when absolutely necessary, I will do this." The resignation in his voice seemed to engulf the room.

Albus Dumbledore smiled, sadly yet gratefully. "Thank you, Remus. And now, I have one last request I would like to make of you."

Lupin looked up, wary and on-guard. "Which is?"

A light of amusement caused the old man's eyes to sparkle. "Do yourself, my granddaughter, and the rest of the Order a favor, and finally ask Tonks if she'd be interested in having dinner with you one night. And, of course, as the dessert course is arriving, casually inform her that you would be interested in spending a great deal of time with the young lady, starting immediately. It has been getting quite old seeing the two of you sneaking looks at each other during meetings, and Desdemona herself is getting quite exasperated with you interfering in her own life while you let yours pass you by."

Remus looked as if he'd swallowed his own tongue. "She said that?"

The elderly headmaster nodded. "I believe the exact phrasing she was planning to use was 'For crying out loud, Remus, will you just ask Tonks out to dinner so you can have a love life of your own and I can die happy for you?' Since she is more than a little preoccupied with finals right now, I promised her I would send the message."

The werewolf looked as if he'd swallowed his own tongue while being hit with a blunt object on the back of his head. "I didn't realize..."

"Of course you didn't, Remus. Those of us in love rarely do, until someone points it out for us." Dumbledore smiled at his former student. "Now, please heed my grandchild's advice. Before the rest of the Order decides to take matters into their own hands."

* * *

He should have been inside, sitting at a table in the Gryffindor common room, or at a desk in the library. He should have been sitting by Hermione, pouring over books for NEWT exams that were breathing down his neck, trying to keep his eyes on the pages instead of looking at the girl he'd never quite gotten around to asking out in seven years. He should have been preparing to leave Hogwarts behind forever.

However, Ron Weasley decided he had something more important to do.

"I still don't know why you're out here. Shouldn't you be mooning over Hermione again, still trying to gather some courage to tell her you love her or something?"

He stared at his best friend, who had been moody and distant since that night he'd gone to spend a week with the Order. Few people at the school knew where Harry Potter had gone during that time, but he did. Drecorum had quietly spelled it all out for him, and then some.

_Ron, your loyalty is your purpose. Don't you think knowing he has a friend like you makes things a little easier for Harry? Don't you think it makes him that less fearful, knowing that you would be there for him if he really needed you? _

Ever since that night, he'd felt changed forever. Older, somehow. Calmer, at peace with himself. More in control, in a way. He felt like, for once, he had genuine purpose and a sense of who he was. He didn't quite understand it, but he knew that he wasn't the same. He wasn't as carefree, or as rash. The fact that he knew he should have been working on NEWT studying was proof of that. Ron was preparing for the future, quietly. A future that he hoped his friend would live to see.

"Some Gryffindor I turned out to be, huh? Bravery, courage, all those supposed traits I'm expected to have, and I can't even ask a girl out on a date." Ron tried to joke to cover the insecurity he felt about that particular topic. "Every time I try, I just think about her, fourth year, on the arm of Viktor Krum, and all my bravery goes flying out the window."

Harry laughed, the first true laugh of the day for him. "You know, something tells me that Hermione might be persuaded to stop writing Viktor if you got around to asking her on a bloody date."

"Really?" Ron turned as red as his hair and began twiddling his thumbs, the one giveaway that the prospect of finally asking Hermione Granger out made him as nervous as a howler from his mother. The wonder that rang from the lone word made him laugh harder. Times like this, he was grateful that he'd met Ron all those years ago, sitting alone on a train heading to some unknown destiny.

Knowing he wasn't completely alone made the future seem less bleak, less foreboding.

Something told him Ron knew that. Otherwise, he wouldn't be out here right now.

"Well, considering she's my friend too, I think I'd know, Ron. Besides, I've said it to you on more than one occasion. Go ask the girl out already. It might make some people happy."

"Like who?" The words barely escaped Ron's lips as they shook violently from his nerves.

Harry smirked. "Well, I think Seamus has three galleons on you asking her before finals. Of course, Dean bet three more on you failing your exams because she said no. I think Neville has a galleon on you chickening out. And, of all people, your sister borrowed some money from Fred and George to wager against them all that she'll end up asking you out due to sheer exasperation."

Ron sat there, jaw hanging wide, all thought of blushing pushed away by the shock he felt. "How do you know all this?"

Another smirk from the boy who lived. "Who do you think began the betting pool?"

Ron lightly punched Harry in the arm. Right over the spot where the Mark was. The contact made Harry unconsciously rub the spot, all trace of the light-heartedness in his demeanor moments ago fading quicker than the mist from the lake in the sun.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Ron began to quickly apologize, but was cut off by Harry holding up his hand.

"Ron, please don't apologize. Not for treating me like a human being. Please don't. It's not your fault." The melancholy tone of voice rang hollow with the pain that Harry carried in his heart. How little like a normal person he felt these days.

Ron reached in his pocket, fingering a very small bottle he'd carried with him for days now. The bottle that Drecorum had given him that day had become a talisman of sorts to him, a good luck charm and security blanket rolled into one. It reminded him that he had purpose and meaning in the world. It gave him peace of mind; something he'd had little of for years.

Summoning up just a little of that alleged Gryffindor courage, Ron looked over at the person next to him. "Harry, no matter what happens after we finally leave school here, no matter what happens with the war and prophesies and the Order and our lives, you're my best friend, and that won't change. I will always treat you like a human being. I will always listen to you when you need someone to listen, make you laugh when you need to laugh, and even hit you when you're stupid. Alright? I know you've got a lot to deal with, and I can't even begin to imagine what goes on in your head when you're thinking. I don't want to imagine it. That doesn't mean that I won't be there when you need me."

He swallowed hard, staring straight ahead at the moon's reflection in the lake instead of looking at his friend anymore, for fear of doing something stupid, like getting emotional. "I've been beaten up by a stone chess piece, puked up slugs, done more detentions than Fred and George combined, almost lost my leg to your godfather's fangs, and have put up with being known as 'Harry Potter's friend' instead of my own name for almost seven years. It hasn't been easy being your friend, Harry. But, sometimes when I feel like it's too much, I remember being eleven, on the train to school, and the kid I met who had a wicked scar and bought me more sweets than I'd ever had before in my life. I remember invisibility cloaks and sneaking down corridors and being awarded fifty points for a rash decision and flying on your Firebolt and watching Malfoy become a ferret. I remember the Quidditch World Cup and giving Dobby socks on Christmas Day. I wouldn't trade one moment of being your friend for anything, Harry. I mean it."

Harry looked over at Ron, who was uncharacteristically serious and direct. Rarely did he ever speak like this; usually, it was only when they were fighting that Ron told him how he really felt. Maybe his best friend really was finally growing up. "For the record, you puked slugs because of Hermione, not me."

Ron punched his arm again. Harry laughed deeply.

"Thanks, Ron."

The pair sat in silence for a while longer, both quietly contemplating their futures, both grateful to have someone else to share in the solitude.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in silence in his empty dorm room, staring at the piece of parchment in his hands that a family owl had delivered an hour ago. His mother's handwriting covered the paper, her words scribed in the vibrant green ink that had been used by the family for decades. The words on the page weren't important; it was the message hidden within that stuck out at him. Within the discussion of a light-hearted vacation in the Mediterranean to celebrate his graduation from Hogwarts was a message that only Draco would know was there.

He never thought his mother would have the courage to go through with it.

It was the answer to his prayers.

"_Draco, I feel that we should spend some time together, mother and son, before you embark on a new phase in your life. I've thought long and hard about this, and even though your father won't be able to join us, I feel we should celebrate your upcoming leaving of Hogwarts with a little trip. Somewhere special and a complete change from England. Perhaps sailing on the Mediterranean? I've been dreaming of seeing my reflection in calm blue water for some time. I'll make the arrangements..."_

Draco knew better. Isola di Reflessa. The Island of Reflection. The island his father had bought before he'd proposed to his mother years ago, and named such as a play on her name, for it was Narcissus who wasted away because of his vanity, staring into his reflection. For him, it was an investment, this tiny island off of Sicily, unplottable and shielded from muggles; an investment meant to impress the Black family so he could wed their daughter. A demonstration of his wealth. For Narcissa, it was a delightful get-away, a place to escape from the strain of being both a Black and a Malfoy, where she could forget all her obligations and duties and remember what it was like to simply live.

For Draco, it would now be a shelter. Someplace to hide where absolutely no one could find him, both sides of the war included. A complete change from England, where members of both sides of the family expected him to take his father's place as soon as he left school.

He could hide away in an island paradise until this entire war was over, coming out of hiding to rebuild his life. To live the way he wanted to live. To be his own person and not some puppet for one side or another. That was all he wanted anymore; to not be a chess piece in someone's hand. To make his own decisions and to live or die by them. He'd seen his father reduce himself to someone's beck and call. As much as he respected her, he'd seen Drecorum reduce herself to Dumbledore's pawn once or twice. He sure as hell wasn't going to have Harry Prophecy Potter's life. For once in his life, he pitied the young wizard. Until that trip to his house with Potter, he had never thought about the weight that being who he was must carry. It only strengthened his desire to leave it all behind.

No one would deny Narcissa the right to a vacation with her only child before returning to the war and the lifestyle to which she'd spent her whole life. No one except his father, perhaps. And, thanks to one redheaded potions professor, that barrier was gone. Draco had known for years how hard it was for his mother to deal with his father. He hadn't exactly had an easy time with it himself. Lucius Malfoy had a very controlling demeanor. Although Narcissa wasn't exactly pure of heart and mind, she didn't agree with much of what her husband held dear. However, she'd kept silent for years, watching her eldest son grow, slowly becoming a carbon copy of the man she'd married so foolishly.

Then there was the constant worry. Narcissa wrote Draco often, sending him care packages and spending summers doting on him. The nights she spent up, watching for Lucius' return from meetings or gatherings. The fear when Voldemort had returned and Lucius decided to return to his former activity. The night that the house-elf had arrived, using Narcissa to give information on Dumbledore's precious Order. She'd given Draco the oddest look before she had gone to her husband's study. A mixture of fear, duty, and love for her child. When his father had been taken prisoner by the Order, the fear she felt had been evident. The owls she sent him at school, the visit to Hogsmeade. She'd been reluctant to let Draco out of her sight.

He was all she had left in the world. He'd never given it a second thought, until his final year in Hogwarts, when an open-minded professor made Draco stop and think about his life. Think about his mother and father. Think about the consequences and the repercussions. It wasn't until then that he really noticed all the minor details. How he rarely saw his mother smile around his father. How she always kept quiet and pulled back from large gatherings at the manor. How she spent as much time outside with her roses as she could. How she avoided even the house-elves as much as she could.

It was that thought that made the decision for Draco. He didn't want to be a Death Eater. He didn't want to be a lackey. He didn't want to make his mother worry that he wouldn't come home. He didn't want to be responsible for her universe falling apart around her. She'd wept enough already. Sisters, brothers, cousins, her husband. The war had claimed enough of Narcissa Black Malfoy's life already. He had expected to have to go along with the ruse he'd concocted to make her happy, to fool his mother into thinking he wanted the dark arts lifestyle in which he'd been raised. However, this letter made all that unnecessary. Now, it seemed, she decided to stop hiding in the shadows and take a stand. She refused to let go of her only child without a fight.

* * *

Lupin sat alone in a dark room, Dumbledore long gone, memories of the last thirty years dancing in his head. The news Kingsley had just delivered shocking him to the core.

Peter was dead. He'd tried to escape St. Mungo's in a brief moment of sanity, and died in the process.

He was the last Marauder. Again. The last of his friends. He wasn't quite forty-five yet, and he'd outlived the three men he'd sworn brotherhood with, years ago, in a dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. The friends he'd trusted with the secret he'd kept since he could remember. The friends he'd studied with, terrorized Hogwarts with, worked with. Laughed with. Cried with. Fought with.

He'd put his own boyhood crush on Lily Evans aside the minute he learned James fancied her. He'd kept quiet when Sirius told him about every date he'd ever been on. He'd pushed aside his feelings of concern about Peter because he felt sorry for him.

He'd never been happier than he'd been on James and Lily's wedding day. Except the day James had shown up on his doorstep, Sirius and Peter in tow, with a bottle of Muggle rum and cigars to celebrate his impending fatherhood. He'd lived vicariously through Sirius, always ready to listen to his friend philosophize over his vagabond ways. Never once had he pointed out the obvious – that Sirius had issues with trust, issues with feeling important enough to someone else, issues with finding himself.

As for Peter...

Remus had stopped thinking about Peter four years before. He couldn't. It hurt.

Instead, he thought about Des. His little sister was finally living the life she deserved. He was happy for her, even though it meant being happy for Severus Snape in the same breath. She'd been so unhappy, so many times. So many times he'd held her as she cried. Cried over a broken heart. Cried over leaving school. Cried over going into exile. Cried whenever he told her someone else she'd known had died. Cried when Sirius was in Azkaban. She'd always felt like she'd been asked to give up on life; she felt responsible for putting herself in harm's way; she blamed herself for things she had no control over.

Lily once warned him about falling in love with her. He never did. Not in the same way. He'd known she wasn't for him from day one. She gave him a piece of himself he needed – he felt needed and important and protective around her. But never had she turned her eyes toward him with the light he saw in them whenever she looked at Severus. In the same breath, he'd never looked at her that way. Ever since Dumbledore asked him to tutor his hopeless granddaughter in transfiguration, he'd seen her as a student, a protégé of some sort. Eventually, it grew into a comfortable friendship that he didn't even have with James and Sirius. He could be himself, completely, with Des, right down to discussing old books and debating about ethics.

Dumbledore's comment earlier this evening reminded him of a painful fact. He hadn't been living his life lately. Instead, he had helped everyone else live. He'd had long talks with Sirius, helping him recover his humanity after twelve years in a prison that stole it from him. He'd mentored Harry, both as professor and friend. He'd done what he could to keep Des sane, both while living in her own elegant prison and now that she'd come back to the wizarding world, aware of what she came home to face. He'd helped everyone else live their lives. It was time to live his own.

He was the last Marauder. It was his responsibility to live for them now, instead of through them.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

A sudden flash of light woke Desdemona from fitful dreams. Beside her, a voice grabbed blankets and pulled them over his head, barking a garbled order to put out the damned candlelight. However, there was no candle lit in the room. Instead, a brightly shining bird perched on Severus' dresser, preening his feathers, which emitted sparks of light into the darkness.

Adrenaline running through her, Desi found herself completely awake. "Fawkes?"

A lone note of phoenix song hovered in the air between the large bird and the woman he'd come to visit. As he did, Desi felt something release in her mind, a sort of awareness, as if recalling a forgotten dream. At the sound, an incredibly tired and confused man finally opened his eyes.

"What in bloody hell is that bird doing here?"

Desi ignored him. "It's time, isn't it, Fawkes?"

The bird nodded once, and then vanished in a second flash of light, leaving Desi sitting up in a tangled mass of black sheets, shaking, her face looking as if all color had drained away, her auburn curls casting shadows across her features.

"Would you care to explain to me what in the lowest depths of Azkaban is going on?" Sev finally struggled to gain some level of alertness, rubbing his eyes and trying to make sense of the previous thirty seconds. "Time for what?"

Desi shot from the bed and began throwing clothes on haphazardly, taking a full minute to realize that her sweater was inside out and backwards. Sliding back into her jeans, she began to look under the bed for her shoes, swearing when she couldn't find them.

"You were barefoot last night, remember?" For some reason, the sight of her fumbling for her clothes as if they'd been caught by a prefect amused him, until he noticed that she was chewing on her bottom lip; she had a habit of doing that when worried about something. Desi hadn't paid him any attention, and hadn't answered his question. "Desdemona, what is going on?"

She barely looked over at him as she searched for her wand, which she remembered bringing in case she had needed to hex his obstinate ass into staying put last night. Finally grasping the slender rosewood wand, she conjured her hair into a ponytail. "Get dressed" were her only words, spoken over her shoulder as she walked from the bedroom to his kitchen.

Within seconds, the smell of coffee wafted to him, as he still sat in his bed, baffled at her mechanical and detached behavior. Grumbling to himself, Severus finally left his warm bed, shivering as bare feet hit the cold stone floor. Yelping as he stubbed his toe in the dark, he threw on clothes and stormed out of his bedroom. From the palest of light on the horizon, it was barely dawn.

He gladly took the mug of coffee Desi offered him, her cup half empty already. That was one blessing – she appreciated a morning cup of coffee as much as he did. Just the scent was enough for him to open his eyes a little wider.

And his students wondered why he was always so moody during early morning potions.

Swallowing a gulp of the insanely strong, black, hot coffee, he glared at Desi, who was working hard to avoid his gaze. "Now that we're both awake and dressed at some hour of the day which is positively inhuman, would you like to tell me what in the name of Salazar Slytherin is going on?"

Desi bolted down the rest of the mug of coffee and slammed the cup down on the counter like it had been a shot of firewhiskey. "We're expected at the Headmaster's office. Fawkes is getting the other heads of houses."

"Why?" Just because he had coffee did not mean he was completely alert and functioning.

"I still can't talk about it, Sev. Just hurry up with the coffee."

"Does this have anything to do with that repression charm you mentioned last night?"

She nodded, biting her lip again. A melancholy haze drifted across her face.

Damn. Three gulps later, the coffee was gone, and the pair headed out his apartment door, towards the headmaster's office, Desi remaining silent the entire way.

* * *

By the time they reached the door, Minerva McGonagall was turning a corner, followed moments later by Professors Flitwick and Sprout. All three looked as if they too had dressed in a hurry, with little attention given to their appearances. Fawkes hovered in front of the sliding door that opened to the staircase leading up to the Headmaster of Hogwarts' office, his wings flapping overhead, sparks raining down from them.

"Desdemona, what are you doing here?" McGonagall asked, looking exhausted on the other side of her spectacles. "And where is Professor Dumbledore?"

Desi looked at all four people intently. "Gone." The word shook as much as her hands.

Flitwick stared upward at her, confusing plainly written on his face. "What exactly do you mean by 'gone'?"

McGonagall searched Desi's face. "He left?" At her nod, she sucked in a breath. "I didn't think he would leave without saying goodbye to the students..."

"There wasn't time."

Severus grabbed her upper arm and spun her around to face him. "Time for what? Damn it, Desi, start talking."

Desi choked down a sob, looking up into black eyes that reflected frustration. Eyes that had, only hours ago, convinced her that everything in her life would be alright in the end. The truth that had been locked in her mind until Fawkes' arrival mere minutes ago filled her very soul with dread and loss. "Papa had to leave Hogwarts. He's in hiding. By now, the Order has a new Secret-Keeper, and Papa is far away from here and unfindable. He has his own Secret-Keeper, to keep him safe. The Hat has chosen the new headmaster of Hogwarts."

He didn't like where this was going. The coffee was finally working; pieces of the insane puzzle were clicking into place.

Finally, he spoke up. "Well, who is the new Headmaster?"

Desi exchanged a long glance with Minerva McGonagall, volumes of understanding carrying between the two, before looking over at Sev, black fire burning in his eyes.

"Fawkes, I'm ready." The phoenix nodded, and sang. As the notes reverberated in the hallway, the second repression charm in Desdemona's mind was released.

"Perfect balance."

As soon as Desi uttered those words, the sliding door parted, allowing the petite witch to walk up the staircase to her grandfather's office.

Her office.

* * *

As she disappeared up the staircase, Severus Snape raged. Glaring at the other three heads of houses, he bellowed. "Would one of the three of you care to let me in on the damned secret, since little miss 'follow the phoenix' found herself incapable? What did the Hat and the bird have to do with any of this? And why isn't McGonagall, of all people at this school, the Headmaster? Why Desi?"

Minerva looked up at the man, annoyance at his tone of voice warring with a feeling of sympathy towards him. She'd warned Albus that keeping the head of Slytherin House in the dark about certain protocol was foolish at best. Now, however, given the circumstances, she understood why he had. After all it had been she herself who had pointed out his granddaughter's infatuation with the tall boy years ago, when both were mere students. Since the Sorting Hat would have said something ages ago to Albus about the succession, the silence finally made sense.

She sighed, taking it upon herself to answer his question. "When it is time for a new Headmaster to be appointed, the phoenix gathers the four heads of houses and, in some cases, a fifth person. Generally, the Headmaster finds their way on staff at Hogwarts, and is sometimes already the head of a house, but, other times, this isn't the case. The phoenix then tells the selected Headmaster the new password, and conveys the secrets of the school to him or her."

Coffee wasn't enough for him right then. He needed something stronger. A damn sight stronger. He wondered if he still had that bottle of whiskey in his kitchen. "So, the bird chose Desi to be the headmaster?"

McGonagall shook her head. "No. The phoenix only told her the secrets. The Sorting Hat chose her."

Make that a bottle of whiskey followed by the bottle of Muggle rum he still had from five years ago. "The hat? A hat and a bird choose who runs the school?"

The three professors nodded in unison. He merely shook his head. "Please tell me this is a really bad dream."

McGonagall's sympathy won out. "It's not, Severus. Desdemona is the new Headmistress of Hogwarts. Why Dumbledore never explained the succession to you, or gave you any hint that she was chosen, is not something I can answer for. I'm sorry. However, this does not stop time. We still have finals to give our students and a school to run, and I would suggest we return to our houses." With one last look of pity etched on her face, Minerva McGonagall turned and swept around the corner again, presumably going to Gryffindor Tower, leaving the man to stand outside a closed door in a mental daze.

* * *

In a daze of her own, Desdemona walked around the room, staring in awe at pictures on the walls and shelves filled with books and trinkets. The desk had been cleared off; a sight she had never thought she'd see in all her days. Fawkes flew to her shoulder, perching there, trilling into her ear as her mind felt overflowing with the wisdom that the phoenix's voice imparted.

With ice in her voice, she finally addressed the other sentient being in the room. "Why me?"

The sorting hat coughed politely. "Lovely to begin working with you too, Ms. Dumbledore."

"Drecorum. I don't see any reason to stop using my mother's name."

The sorting hat paused for a moment. "A wise choice, if I may say so. Hopefully, it will reduce comparisons between Albus Dumbledore and yourself."

"You still didn't answer my question." Icicles still dripped from her words. "Why me? Why am I the Headmistress? Why didn't you choose someone more suited, like McGonagall or Flitwick? I've barely been a professor for a year. Why am I so special?"

Something gave her the impression the Sorting Hat didn't want to answer her question. However, after a few moments of waiting, it finally began to speak.

"Let me begin by saying, Ms. Drecorum, that if history had gone a different way, it would not have been you. However, events take place outside these walls that I cannot always predict, or control, or avoid. Regardless, you are the person best suited for this task, as of this moment."

She rolled her eyes. "I promise you, artifact from the founding of this school or not, I will pitch you into the fireplace if you don't start being a little less cryptic, starting immediately. I agreed to this nonsense because my grandfather begged me to, and because you promised me answers when it was time for me to hear them. I have not just turned my entire life upside down to be given riddles and clues from some shabby piece of fabric."

To her amazement, the Sorting Hat chuckled. "I told your grandfather you had spirit. You deserve to hear the truth, Ms. Drecorum. All of the truth. Which starts, sadly enough, at the founding itself. The founders designed me to do more than ensure that the students made it into the courses of study that best suited them. I also council the Headmasters of the school, as well as select the new headmaster when the previous one steps down. It allows for a certain impartiality that governing bodies cannot seem to accomplish. Fawkes, as you now know, is the guardian of that secret, and all the secrets of Hogwarts. Like me, he has been with the school and its leaders since the very beginning."

"Yes, yes, Papa explained that bit to me. Can we fast-forward through the exposition here?" Desi was losing patience with the Hat. "I have finals to oversee and students to look after, not to mention an incredibly hurt, overly-anxious and likely highly-irate Head of Slytherin House to try and placate."

"The founders realized that having four leaders of the school was unrealistic, especially after Slytherin left. It was too chaotic. People need one leader. One person to turn to and to solve the crises. However, a person can be overly-oriented into one direction or another. Hence, my role in the selection of the new headmaster. When I sort the students, every year, I am always searching for the one who is the best candidate for the Headmastership. I'm always looking for someone who is very difficult to place in one house or another. Someone, Ms. Drecorum, who is perfectly balanced in deeds and interests."

Where had she heard those words before?

"_The Hat said that, Papa?"_

"_Yes, it did, little one. 'Between snake and lion, the girl's heart rests. Perfectly balanced in deeds and interests.'"_

"_What does it mean?"_

_A sad sort of smile. "It means, little one, that you are equally one and the other. That you are as much noble and brave as you are cunning and shrewd."_

"_Is that good?"_

"_In a way, yes."_

She'd been eleven when her grandfather told her what the Hat had said. Eleven. He had known even then that this was her fate. Now she understood his protective nature.

"If I'm as balanced as you claim, then who was the person who was supposed to be here? You said that it would have been someone else if history hadn't gone the way it had. Was there someone else better suited for this than myself? What happened?" Desi's mind reeled.

The Hat sighed; a strange, lamenting sort of sound. "The woman who should have been Headmistress died years ago. Murdered in the first conflict with Voldemort, from what I learned. She would have been Potions professor and head of Slytherin House, instead of Severus Snape. In some ways, she would have been a better choice than he; she had less inner turmoil than he carries with him. However, I do not control the hands of fate. Which is why, Ms. Drecorum, you stand in this office now, instead of your mother."

"My...my mother?" Desi's knees gave out and she hit the floor, frightening Fawkes so that he left her shoulder and flew to his perch. "My mother was supposed to be the Headmistress of Hogwarts? Head of Slytherin? Potions professor?" She'd known she resembled her mother in a lot of ways, but this was beyond ridiculous. "Are you sure we're talking about the same woman? My mother had a temper than could make volcanic eruptions seem tame. She could swing from one emotion to the next like a squirrel jumps from one tree to another. Granted, she loved her cauldron more than I love mine, and she would have made a wonderful professor, but Headmaster?"

The Sorting Hat gave her the impression that it would have nodded if it were possible. "The same traits that make you the best choice were in her as well. Yes, she had a temper, a desire to prove herself, and a gift for bending ethics to suit her needs, but she always gave of herself selflessly at the same time, no matter her temperament. She was bright and ambitious, fair and brave. Many of the same traits, if you recall, that you yourself possess. Just because she herself was a Slytherin, like yourself, does not mean she wasn't noble or that her heart wasn't just. To think that about her discredits yourself as well. Simply put, Cassandra Drecorum should have been a professor at Hogwarts. She should have become Headmistress. She should have been the one to take this position. It is a shame that the fates willed a different path. However, fate gave this school a second chance, the day you came to Hogwarts."

Desi had no idea how long she'd been crying, or which thought made her start in the first place. Her mother should have been here. Her mother should have lived.

Instead, she sat there, on a cold stone floor, weeping for what was lost, what could never be replaced, and for a future so filled with uncertainty that she ached with it.

* * *

He never returned to his apartments.

Instead, Severus sat outside the door that steadfastly, and almost stubbornly, refused to open. He'd tried every muggle treat that Dumbledore had ever used as passwords before. He finally realized, after thirty minutes, that Dumbledore's passwords didn't work anymore.

This is what drove her to frustration last night. This was the burden weighing on her shoulders. She'd known all of this, but couldn't speak of it.

Damn Albus Dumbledore. Damn him and his interference in everyone's lives around him. Sometimes, he wondered what the difference was between his two former employers.

Sometimes, he didn't think the difference was really that great.

"_It's been three years, Headmaster. The Dark Lord is gone. Your students are safe. I've played the dance with the Death Eaters who escaped imprisonment. Why do you still act as if you don't trust me enough to let me teach the Defense classes?"_

"_I trust you, Severus. More than you know. I trust that you will continue the charade I asked you to play, and I trust that you will not break my confidence."_

"_With all due respect, Headmaster, you don't."_

"_How do you mean, Severus?"_

"_I mean, the only reason you trust me is the leverage you wield over my head."_

"_And by that, you mean the memory of my granddaughter."_

"_Yes, you cold-hearted...yes, sir. I do."_

"_I see your temper is still quick to rise, Severus. Something that, sadly, you haven't lost yet. Perhaps soon, but not yet."_

"_You asked me to risk my life for her..."_

"_Which was, at the time, the only reason you could find to not end your life right then and there, if I recall events clearly."_

"_How did you know?"_

"_Just because my specialty is transfiguration, Severus, does not mean I was not proficient at Potions as well. I recognized the liquid in that bottle that sat on your bedside table. I remember the empty longing in your eyes that night, searching for an answer. I remember the first spark of life I saw in you as I begged for your help, at the mention of her name. Your life, Severus, has never been very kind or sympathetic to you. For that, I can only apologize."_

"_Apologize? You hold her name over my head like a guillotine, ready to bring the blade down at a moment's notice, and you have the nerve to apologize for the unfairness of life? Fair would be letting me suffer in silence, without constant reminders of her presence. Fair would be helping me forget the selfish and foolish thing I did and the harm it caused. Fair would be letting me simply be. This isn't fair."_

"_Ah, I see. You wish for me to promote you to Defense instructor so you can forget Desdemona, because the Potions classroom reminds you of her?"_

"_That's not what I said..."_

"_Severus, if I could, I would. But I need you to teach Potions. One day, you'll understand. However, you are right. I have been holding her memory over your head, and that is not fair to you. I promise, I will never mention her again in your company."_

The irony of it all ate at him. He realized now what he couldn't possibly see then. Dumbledore had known one day he would need to bring her back to the school. He tried to prepare him for that day.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd been fourteen, sitting in the library alone, studying, tears falling down her cheeks. He'd caught sight of her in a gap of books on a shelf, and the sight had made his heart clench. It was that moment that made him leave the school early, after exams but before the end-of-term formalities.

Twenty-five years later, his first sight of her had made his heart clench again.

_Watching her walk into the Great Hall, as students poured in from the carriage ride, lining up at their tables. _

_Seeing the warm smile she gave McGonagall, reaching out to shake hands with Flitwick, Sinistra, Trelawney._

_Noticing how much effort she put into ignoring his presence._

_Hating himself the entire time._

Twenty-five years had brought so much change, and yet so little all at once. The unruly waves of auburn hair, the flash in her deep blue eyes, the mischievous grin – that was the girl he'd met as a fifth-year student. The chill in her voice, the stiff posturing, the constant watchful gaze sweeping around her – those were new.

Her grandfather had brought her back to this school. Brought her back to fulfill a destiny he clearly knew to be hers.

Dumbledore had played her as easily as he'd played Severus. Instead of being direct and clear, he'd been calculating and devious. He'd waited; waited until he was sure the two had finally broken the ice, until he had atoned for his sins, until she had made her confession. Waited until there was no going back before causing this upheaval.

"_When, Severus, do you plan to let yourself know what the rest of the world clearly sees?"_

_Silence his only answer._

"_Severus, why do you fight? Why do you constantly try to repress your humanity behind a brick wall?"_

"_I hurt her once. I never wanted to do it again." Anger filling his very soul. "You knew. You knew she would object to this plan. I told you, Lupin told you, even Potter told you. Then you asked me to take part in it, knowing how much she objected. You made me choose between my feelings for your granddaughter and my loyalty to you."_

"_Not to me, Severus. To the Order. To Harry. To the future of wizardkind."_

"_Hide it in euphemisms all you want, Professor. You and I know the truth. You held a decades-old promise in your hand, and asked me to do something that you knew could drive a wedge between her and I. After all the talk about being grateful the past can be set aside and futures can be written, you asked me to risk that. For you."_

"_Perhaps I did, Severus. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps you're more honest about it than I am being. However, in all fairness, would you have actually said no, if she asked it of you?"_

_Unable to answer the simple question._

"_Just because you cannot always make her happy, Severus, does not mean you don't love her. It only hurts you more."_

_Silence again._

He sat now on the floor outside the office, highly undignified yet not caring one bit.

He owed her so much.

He owed her everything.

"_What do you want?"_

"_This looked like a good place to study. Do you mind?"_

_Looking the new Slytherin up and down. "If I said yes?"_

"_Then I'd leave."_

_He rolled his eyes. Then he noticed the book in her hands. _

"_What are you doing with an advanced Potions book?"_

"_I'm in third-year Potions. It's the required book. I wanted to study some of the titration methods before double Potions tomorrow."_

_His jaw hanging open. "You're new, aren't you? A-a first year, I mean?"_

_Nodding in affirmation, auburn hair spilling everywhere. _

"_And you're in third-year potions?"_

"_Mum taught me everything she knew. I had my own cauldron when I was three. I've been making actual potions since I was probably seven or eight. So, when I got my letter for school, Papa asked Professor Rasputin to test me since I wanted to take a higher Potions class. Third year's the highest he'll let me go, since I'm so young."_

_Staring. "Your Papa?"_

_Sighing in relief. "Thank Circe. Someone who doesn't recognize me immediately. I'm Desdemona Dumbledore."_

_Memory rushing back. The Great Hall silent as the small witch sat with the Sorting Hat. Half an hour passing by. Finally pulling out a book while he waited. _

_She'd gone to Slytherin?_

"_Your 'Papa' is the Headmaster?"_

_Smiling blue eyes. "My grandfather. On my father's side, obviously."_

"_But your grandfather..."_

"..._was in Gryffindor. Yes, yes, I know. So was my father. Trust me, Great-Uncle Aberforth has not let me forget this. But my mother was a Slytherin, so it balances out in the long run. But that's neither here nor there. You never did answer my question. May I study with you?"_

"_What makes you think I need a study partner?"_

_Amusement in dancing blue eyes. "Well, for starters, those two Gryffindor boys who harassed you on the train won't touch you as long as I'm around, seeing as how I'm the headmaster's granddaughter and all."_

"_What?"_

_Sighing again, in exasperation. "The two boys with black hair. Your age. Gryffindor. One with glasses. They were awful to you. Plus, Professor Rasputin said you're very good with Potions and Defense classes – it would be good for me to study with you. So, a trade-off. They can't harass you as much, and I get to learn more than I will in my regular classes."_

_In shock at the negotiating abilities of an eleven year old girl. _

_Shaking her hand in agreement._

She'd turned herself into a social pariah to be his friend, and he never fully realized it until it was too late. She'd missed out on close friendships and dating and gossip and...

...and she'd done it willingly, without reservation.

She'd become the one person no one ever wanted to be. She'd made herself his friend.

Twenty-five years later, she was his love.

He glared at the door one last time. Desi was the new headmaster now.

They needed to have a chat.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

A hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Her entire body felt stiff and cold, and dried tears on her cheeks made her skin feel tight. With a start, Desi realized she'd fallen asleep on her office floor. Cried herself to sleep, more like it. From the amount of sunlight beaming in, it was mid-morning at the earliest.

Severus pulled her up to a sitting position, leaning her back against the side of her desk for support, and then brushed curls away from her left cheek. "I've spent the better part of an hour reciting potions alphabetically at the door to this office, trying to get in. I have to admit, I would have expected it to be 'wolfsbane', not 'veritaserum'." Lowering himself into a seated position on the floor as well, he faced Desi. "I think we need to talk."

A low bark of a cold laugh came from Desi's throat. "That's an understatement." Wiping her eyes with her hands, she took a deep breath. "Well, this is what I couldn't say last night. I'm the new Headmaster. Or Headmistress; I'm not sure which one is grammatically correct." She gave a small snort of frustration. "Apparently, my grandfather has known for years that I was the next to be chosen. Part of the reason to bring me to Hogwarts now, instead of any other time in the last few years, was that he knew the end of his term was drawing to a close. So, here I am."

Snape stared at her. He knew this calm voice with which she recited this speech. It wasn't real. This was the voice before she lost her temper. If he wasn't careful, Desi could snap and fly off into one of her rages. Granted, he liked her rages, to an extent; on anyone else they'd look like temper tantrums, but on her they looked passionate. Her temper fascinated him like fire drew moths to hover around a flame. However, there were lots of antique-looking breakables in the room, and he didn't feel like having them fly at his head. "I didn't know that the succession had anything to do with bloodlines."

She shook her head. "It doesn't. Usually. The Hat explained it to me. When he's sorting us, he's measuring our potential, our depth, our character. He's looking for someone who is balanced among the temperaments of the houses. Not for someone who is clearly a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw. Someone who could fit into more than one house. This way, when they're running the school, they have more objectivity. As you and I both know, I qualify for that. The fitting in part, at least. I'm still unsure of the objectivity bit."

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images of the little girl she'd once been, wearing green and silver one night, red and gold the next. He did that. "So, it's merely coincidence that your grandfather is Albus Dumbledore? Or is it? You said 'usually'..."

Desi nodded, sighing deeply again. "It has nothing to do with Papa. The worst part, Sev, is that it wasn't supposed to be me at all. It never was."

The words hit him like a heavy weight. The look in her eyes as she spoke said more than the words. "Would you like to explain that one, Desi?" Caution laced his words. The look in her eyes reminded him of the little girl whose heart he broke years ago. He needed to tread carefully.

A tear glittered on the edge of her right eye, catching the sunlight streaming from the windows, and her hands shook. "Funny thing, irony. It was supposed to be my mother. My mother was supposed to come back here, to teach Potions of all classes. My mother would probably have been head of Slytherin instead of you. But then she went and got herself killed, so the Hat had to settle for me when I came to Hogwarts a year later. So, I guess, in a way, bloodlines do come into it, occasionally."

She'd known all of this last night. Hell, she'd known all of this before he got the Fire Mark on his arm. No wonder she'd been so distraught last night.

"_Why tonight? Of all nights in the year, why this one, Desi?"_

"_Because it needs to be."_

She hadn't looked surprised by the arrival of the phoenix in his bedroom this morning. Come to think of it, she had acted like she'd been expecting the bird's intrusion; like it had been scheduled or anticipated. So mechanically had she gotten dressed and headed to the office. Her face had been unreadable, even after he'd finally woken up. It wasn't the usual Desdemona behavior.

Of course, her waking anytime before the sun wasn't usual Desdemona behavior.

This was why she hadn't gotten the Mark. This was why she'd begun acting depressed and melancholy days ago. This was why even Dumbledore had become withdrawn. This was why she had been so insistent upon them talking about their future last night.

Damn. She had known this was going to happen, and there was nothing he could have done differently to make it easier on her. Damn, damn, damn.

He reached for her hands and held them, idly tracing the lines on her palms with his thumbs. There was no way he could make himself look up at her right now. Not for anything in the world. Thoughts swirled like a whirlwind in his mind. "Where do we go from here?"

Desi looked up, shocked at the question, let alone the quiver in the voice as it was uttered. "What do you mean, where do we go from here? Besides to my classroom to oversee exams?"

Severus just stared at her, once again blown away by the woman before him. She'd never ceased to amaze him in school, no matter how hard he'd tried to deny it to himself. For months, she'd shocked him time and time again. But now...this took the Snitch. She couldn't possibly make this easy on him, could she? "Desdemona Drecorum, I'm asking you a simple question. One you asked me last night. Where are we going? What do you want, Desi? I told you last night, whatever you ask of me, I'll do. I don't want to lose you. So, I'll ask you again: where do we go from here?"

Where in the hell was he going with this? Desi's mind ran in circles trying to understand what he was, horribly in her opinion, trying to say. Sometimes, the man could really slink around a conversation, never really getting to the point, and trying to decipher what he was saying could give her a headache. None of it made sense. And why in hell was he acting so bloody nervous, anyway? Fidgeting, not looking at her, stammering slightly. This wasn't a man who was characteristically anxious. It was like he was...

Oh God. Oh, hell's bells. Oh, Merlin's Beard, he wasn't.

Was he?

"Please tell me you're not trying to ask me to marry you. Please tell me that long-winded and utterly confusing speech was not a really bad proposal. Tell me I'm losing my mind instead."

He stared at her, jaw swinging wide open, dropping her hands. "How in the hell did you hear a marriage proposal in all of THAT?"

"But...you were nervous...where do we go...last night...oh, bloody hell." Desi curled up into a ball, burying her face in her hands. "I didn't translate that insane rambling correctly, then. I'm going to go curl up in a corner and die of humiliation now."

From what he could see of her face, it was a lovely red, but one that didn't match her hair. She looked as embarrassed as he felt. What he'd meant and what she'd heard had been two different things. He wanted to know if this meant that the idyllic months they'd spent together were over. She thought he wanted permanence. Two different things.

But how different were they, when all was said and done?

Throwing caution to the wind, he spoke up. "Who said you didn't translate it correctly, Desi?"

She froze in place, confused beyond belief. "This isn't funny, Sev. Either you aren't proposing marriage, in which case I would appreciate being allowed to die of embarrassment, or you are, and this is some bad, bad nightmare. "

He stood up finally, towering over her, black hair sweeping down to frame the angles of his face. This was not exactly the response he expected. In fact, it was as much the antithesis of his expectations as humanly possible. "A nightmare? You spend last night accusing me of avoiding the topic of our future for months, and today you ask me to tell you I'm not addressing it? I give up trying to understand you, Desdemona. Would you kindly just come out and tell me what in the world you want?"

Desi launched herself to her still-bare feet.

_Oh great_, Severus thought. _There goes her temper. _

"What do I want? I want my life back, Sev. The life I should have had. Not this insane roller-coaster of a life I have now. I want the life every little girl sees for herself. I want my parents to love me forever and be by my side. I want to fall in love and have my career and children of my own. I want to be perfectly normal and live in a world where I don't have to worry about anyone I love being harmed, or killed, or driven mad by some dark and terrible person with an inferiority complex the size of Europe. I want what I should have had, Sev. I want what I can't have. I have responsibilities and obligations and people who mean more than my own individual desires to worry about now. As much as I love you, I can't have that life anymore, so don't go offering me what I can never have."

Would she ever stop playing the victim? "So, that speech last night..."

Desi stared at him coldly, despite tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I wasn't trying to pressure a marriage proposal out of you, damn it to hell. I just wanted to know you would still love me, still be here for me, even after this bombshell was dropped, even after you found out why I didn't get the Mark and that the Hat chose me and all this nonsense. I just wanted to know if I would be able to hold onto the last shred of that dream I have left. I just..."

Well. This wasn't what he expected. For crying out loud, what had she spent all that time in America doing, obsessing about the past? Part of him wanted to slap sense into her. "Who says you can't have that dream? Damn it, I never thought you'd forgive me, let alone actually say you love me. In a thousand years, I never thought I could have you back in my life. Do you know what was going through my mind as I recited potions for an hour? Last night. How you were right about us waltzing around the question of the future. How I've been so scared of losing what we have that I've done nothing to protect it. How I threw away my first chance with you and how I never dreamt to have it back. How you deserve to have some piece of that dream you just rambled on about. However, not all of this mess you find yourself in is my fault. Bloody hell, Desdemona, you're partly responsible for the roller-coaster of a life you have, whatever in the muggle world a roller-coaster is. You want your life back, Desi? Then do something about it. Take the offer, however badly I mangled the presentation of it. It's your choice now. Not mine."

Had he really just said that? A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him.

_What in the name of the lowest demons in Hell makes you think you have the right to ask her that question? Where is this even coming from? She just walked back into your life months ago. Marriage? To a man marked for death by his former master? Are you insane?_

He had no answer. Hell, he never expected to ask the question. Contemplated it, yes. Daily. Hourly. He had told the truth last night. Forever was what he wanted. For the first time in his life, he had something to hold onto that wouldn't spurn him, wouldn't use him, wouldn't play with his mind. For the first time in years, he found it easy to smile once in a while. He had a reason to open his eyes in the morning. He had a reason to breathe.

Everything he never thought he'd have again, personified in the woman who replaced the silly schoolgirl he'd pushed away.

Desi turned her back to him, facing instead a window that overlooked the grounds, the sunlight almost blinding her through gleaming tears in her eyes. What in the world did she want? For once, she had a choice. She hadn't had many of those for years. She could finally take possession of something in her life, instead of having it taken from her by fate. She finally had that chance – and she had no clue what to do.

All the pledges of love and desire, all the nights spent wrapped in his arms, all the secrets shared and the glimpses into the person that he kept hidden from the world didn't change one thing: the single last thing she ever expected from his was this offer. Even at thirteen, when she first began daydreaming about such a chance, she knew it wouldn't happen. He wasn't a marriage kind of person. She'd accepted that. She didn't need some ceremony and a ring and a piece of paper anyway. All she wanted was to be with him. The finer details didn't matter.

Hell, she was ready to slap herself right about now.

One question remained unasked for her. Why was he asking her in the first place? Was this something he needed for himself? Or did he think it's what she wanted? The last thing she wanted was for him to do something he didn't want to do just to make her happy. That wasn't fair. That wasn't right. It would be like asking him to say no to her grandfather, or walk away from the Order. Cruel and malicious. It would be like asking him to not be himself.

She didn't fall in love with a contemporary man. She fell in love with him.

The voice in the back of her mind spoke to her again. _How dare you throw this back in his face? That took a lot from him to even ask the question. What makes you think he didn't mean it? Where do you get off taking that decision from him?_

God, she hated arguing with herself.

Is it wise to jump into some sort of formal commitment right now? I'm the headmaster of this school – I need to think about the students now.

_How is marriage going to affect your ability to run a school? Isn't that a little presumptuous of you, to assume your personal life will affect your work so much?_

He's in the Order. He's in the Inner Circle of the Order. Why marry, when one or both of us could be dead in the year?

_So are Remus and Tonks, but that didn't stop you from encouraging Remus to ask her out for dinner, now did it?_

Voldemort's after me. That's why Papa left. He'll be after Sev, too. Just because of who he is.

_So you're going to let some dark wizard who may or may not come after you dictate how you live your life?_

Why can't we just hold onto what we have now? Why this question? Why now?

Her back still to him, Desi released a hiss of breath. "I don't know what to say. I really and truly have no idea what to say right now. There's so much to think about..."

A hand on her shoulder silenced the thoughts in her mind. Desi felt herself being turned around to face the man who was asking her for something she never thought she'd be asked to give. "I know there is. I didn't come here planning to ask you that question, Desi. I just needed to understand what happened this morning. Why you were the new Headmaster. Why Dumbledore left. What this means for the future." Severus bit his lip, suddenly more nervous than he'd been when he opened his mouth without thinking, moments ago. "Desi, I promise, I didn't expect to have those words come out of my mouth, but they did. I told you last night, I want to be with you for as long as we can be together. We both have a world of things to think about. Don't answer now. Just remember the question."

Desdemona felt as if her world had turned upside down in a day. Her papa was gone. She now ran all of Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat had given her a history lesson on the Drecorum side of her family. Out of nowhere, Sev had given her a half-hearted and distorted marriage proposal. All she wanted was to close her eyes and pretend she was still in bed, wrapped in a cashmere blanket and sheets that smelled like pine needles, curled next to the man she loved. Not this tangled web of existence.

What was that muggle expression she liked? Oh yes. 'And people in Hell wanted ice water'.

Overwhelmed by the whirling thoughts in her mind, she did the one thing that felt completely normal. She buried her face in Sev's shoulder, the black cloth there slowly becoming damp with tears as she shook, sobbing, in his arms, in the middle of her grandfather's old office, a songbird and an old hat their only companions.

Feeling helpless, he did the only thing he could do. He held her, once again, letting her pour her frustrations. He could only guess how many there were for her to release.

* * *

Ginny Weasley grinned ecstatically as she walked around the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall over breakfast, collecting galleons and sickles from dozens of people. Grumbling faces handed over coins right and left over plates piled with toast and bacon and eggs, goblets of milk and juice, and pieces of mail from the Owl Post. The coins clinking in her hands, she settled into a seat with a very satisfied look on her face.

Thirty three galleons and fourteen sickles. It was more pocket money than she'd had in her whole life.

And all because she had an inside track on the betting.

"_You really fancy him don't you Hermione? My big brother. Ickle Ronniekins. You really like him?"_

_A glare over a stack of books. "Ginny, for the hundredth time, yes. For absolutely no logical reason, I seem to be head over heels in love with Ronald whatever-his-middle-name-is Weasley. Have been for a couple of years now. And it's annoying me to no end."_

"_Bilius." Ginny snickered at the bewildered look the Head Girl shot her. "His middle name is Bilius."_

"_No wonder he never told me what it was." Hermione shook her head. "Whatever. I've been patient and nice, waiting for him to come around for almost three years now. I swear, Ginny, he has only a few short weeks left. I will NOT be wondering 'does he like me too?' while taking my NEWTS. He either asks me before the exams begin, or I ask him. He's driving me insane!"_

_Ginny rolled with laughter. "'Mione, I promise you, he's not going to get up the nerve. I know my big brother. It'll never happen."_

Last night, roughly at two am when Ron and Harry came back to the common room, Hermione was ready.

"_Ronald Weasley, I have absolutely had it with you."_

"_What did I do now?" Ron's face was a lesson in confusion._

"_It's what you didn't do, you moron!" Her curly hair flew around her face as she shook with anger and frustration, and Ron began turning so pale his freckles were hardly noticeable. "I have waited and waited for you to ask me something since the end of our fourth year in school. I think I've waited long enough. Ron, do you like me? Not 'yeah, you're a great friend' like me, either. You know what I mean, and don't pretend otherwise."_

_He looked like he was about to puke up slugs again. "Um, yeah..." His eyes remained glued to the floor below him, so he completely was taken by surprise when she stormed across the distance between them, grabbed him by his Gryffindor tie, and pulled him in for the longest kiss any of the students in the common room had ever witnessed. _

_Ginny just smiled widely and started reminding people how much they owed her._

Thanks to Hermione Granger's ire and her brother's serious lack of self-esteem, she had more than enough saved up to buy that entire series of trashy witch romance novels in Flourish and Blotts when the school year ended. She didn't need anything else, really. Besides, she'd been dying to own the entire Pandora Candlelight collection ever since borrowing a few of the books from Lavender and Parvati.

* * *

The weight of responsibility settled down firmly on Remus Lupin's shoulders. In all honesty, being the new secret-keeper wasn't much more work, but the worry and concern attached to it all was overwhelming...

...as had been the conversation he'd just had with his little sister. His little sister, the Headmistress of Hogwarts. He prayed for the souls of students who tripped her temper. The idea that Severus had found nerve enough to half-ass propose to Des had shocked him speechless. However, that hadn't been the shock that had made him drop the cup of tea he'd been drinking at the time. The fact that she didn't answer him had driven him to do that.

He'd never understand those two and their odd relationship. He never had. However, he'd finally made his peace with it, and with Severus Snape, for her sake as well as the Order. There was no point to open hostility.

Lupin was just grateful that Des' prince still-not-quite-so-charming saw it that way as well.

The door to the study opened, and a shock of bubble-gum pink hair was barely visible in the doorway; it was the only sign that there was a person coming in the room and not half the library levitating its way there. Even from here, he could smell her perfume. It had driven him mad for almost three years now.

"Oh. Sorry, Remus. Didn't know anyone else was in here." Tonks was carrying an armful of books and scrolls, half of which threatened to topple from her arms in a moment's notice.

"_You've lived vicariously through everyone else for too damned long. Sirius in school, then Lily and James. Even me. It's time, Remus. Time to live your life and not everyone else's. Do it for me, big brother."_

Des had a point. He'd used the whole 'I'm a werewolf' excuse too long.

"Tonks, wait a second." He rose from the chair to help her steady the armload of materials as she tried to re-open the door to the study. "Let me help you with that."

The smile she flashed him, mixed with the look of gratitude, lit her face, just as the books fell from her arms. He rushed over to help her pick them all back up. "Thanks. It's such a pain, reading up on all of this, but I still have to pass annual reviews with the Ministry to keep up Auror certification. Why I let it go until the last second is beyond me."

Remus placed the stack he'd collected onto a side table. "You don't have to leave on my account. In fact, maybe I could help." Why did he feel like such a schoolboy?

Another wide smile crossed her face, and a twinkle in her eyes caught his attention. "Really? That would make my life infinitely easier, Remus."

Was it his imagination, or did she blush just slightly when she looked up? He couldn't tell anymore. He was trying too hard to remember how to breathe.

* * *

Severus Snape sat in a chair that had never felt quite right, at a desk just slightly too low, in an office that he never thought he'd call his own, no matter how many times he'd requested it.

Remembering for the hundredth time that he really was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor made him dwell on the events of the last ten months. On the conversation he had with Dumbledore in a castle hallway, where he learned that he'd been passed over for the twelfth straight year, for a woman he hadn't seen since he was scarcely eighteen. On spending weeks trying to track her down for the conversation that desperately needed to be had. On watching her risk her life by taking a potion that saved his. On finally admitting to her how much she had meant to him. On seeing her crumpled in a heap, barely breathing. On the horrible way he'd asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

How had his life been so completely changed in less than a year?

He wasn't allowed to dwell on history for very long. A cough at his office door announced that someone was waiting to speak to him.

"What do you want, Potter?" His ire at being interrupted by the young wizard who carried everyone's fates on his shoulders was tempered in a way that, a year ago, it never would have been. Another change that had been wrought by the passing months. How he had finally been forced to accept the son was not the father, and that all rivalries must finally be buried. How he'd finally seen how little the boy cared for the power gifted to him.

Harry stepped into the dark room, standing by the desk without taking a seat at the chair across from it. Since Snape hadn't offered the invitation, he wasn't going to presume. Something inside him had told him to seek out the professor; one of the rubber bands in his mind had woken him this morning with sensations of ire, frustration, confusion, and shock. Something had happened.

It wasn't until breakfast that he found out, in some small detail, what it had been.

"Sir, it's true? Professor Dumbledore has left the school? Professor Drecorum is...?"

The black-haired man nodded. "Professor Drecorum is the new Headmaster, yes."

Harry nodded. That explained why Dumbledore had pulled him aside a few days ago for a private chat. The man he'd looked to as a friend, a guide, and a teacher had left him with a speech about duty and obligation, about not forgetting his humanity, for it would be the one thing Voldemort would never take from him, and a last admonishment to never forget how his actions could affect the tenuous web that connected them all. He thought this had been some sort of graduation speech, some sort of last lecture from a professor before he left school for the Order, where he would remain until the war was finally over.

Instead, it was a goodbye.

The professor stared at the pensive look on his student's face. For all of the admonishments about lack of attention and care for years in a classroom full of cauldrons, Harry Potter had excelled at the same subject that had been his calling. He'd found little to ridicule or insult in Defense classes or assignments. In fact, all that he'd found was a respect for the boy. Extra sessions occasionally, practicing spells that most people only read about, seeing the determination in his eyes to be prepared for a destiny he would have gladly rejected had gone far in the older man's estimation.

If only he'd had half the boy's courage twenty five years before. Maybe some things would be different. Then again, maybe this had all been for the best.

Gesturing for the student to take the chair across from him, Snape pushed papers and books out of his way. "Why aren't you packing or celebrating or doing any of the other inane things you should be doing right now, Potter? Why are you here, instead of gleefully preparing to leave this school forever?"

Harry swallowed. "I don't feel like celebrating. And I'm avoiding packing. When I walked through these doors the first time, my life changed forever. I never imagined that when I leave this school, I would no longer be a student, but a wizard. Nothing will be the same. I'll finally have to face whatever future has been predestined for me, and I hate how little choice I have in the matter. It sort of kills any desire to party. As to why I'm here...well, I guess I needed to find out how true the rumors were, and to talk to you."

"Why me?" The small black eyes staring at the student narrowed in contemplation.

"Because you're the one person who can tell me about the man I have to face. Everyone else has spent the last two years preparing me with lessons or advice or suggestions or protections. Everyone else has tried to keep me safe or protect me from the truth. You're the one person who knows, better than anyone else I can trust, what Voldemort's like. You've never tried to shield me from something less than pleasant. You're the only one I can ask, and I'm running out of time to ask." Harry closed his eyes for a second, trying to shut out the feelings of respect and surprise that he felt from the bond with Snape. "This will end. Soon. Everyone has prepared me in every way but this. I need this one last lesson. Please."

As much as he hated to admit it, Harry Potter had just risen ten points in his estimation. Snape was floored. At the same time, a twinge of sadness crept into his mind. Lupin and Desi were right; the Order has stripped away any remaining shred of innocence the boy had left. It wasn't fair.

Neither had Severus' own childhood been. And at least Potter had managed to remain a child longer than he had.

Maybe there was a common tie between him and his student, after all.

He cleared his throat, causing his student to jump slightly. "Alright, Potter. What is it you want to know?"


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

"When do you plan to tell the young man?"

Desi jumped. She still wasn't used to a voice in a room that held only herself. She'd spent so much time outside of the wizarding world that even speaking portraits sometimes caught her off-guard.

This voice, however, was so familiar to her that she turned immediately to the source.

"Since when is a forty-four year old man 'young'?"

The Sorting Hat laughed robustly. "My dear Ms. Drecorum, when you have sat on a shelf for a thousand years, young becomes quite the relative term."

"I see," she replied dryly. "And what were you assuming I was going to tell the 'young' man, anyway?"

"Your decision, of course." The hat responded, as if it were the most natural reply in the world. "When are you going to tell him that you've decided on an answer?"

She stared at the hat with eyes wide in shock. She hadn't even spoken the words aloud yet. "How do you know...?"

"How else can I council the headmasters of this school if I don't have the ability to look inside their minds and their hearts?"

At this, Desi nodded to herself. Made sense. Her grandfather had always said the Hat was special.

"You're unhappy. Part of you is torn over a decision you've already made. I can tell this. Given the interesting lovers' quarrel I witnessed earlier today, I can only guess that this decision affects the young Slytherin Head of House."

The Hat was good.

"Remind me to never play poker with you in the room." With that clear dismissal of topics, Desi bent her head back to the missive from the Ministry of Magic she had received moments ago. As expected, Cornelius Fudge was surprised at the change in leadership at Hogwarts, but a gentle reminder that the school's leadership was out of his, and anyone else's, hands meant he accepted it begrudgingly.

The Hat, however, had other plans for Desdemona's time. "Do you remember the first conversation we ever had, Ms. Drecorum?"

She snorted. "You mean the half hour bicker-fest that went on in my head the first time I ever put you on? When I demanded to be placed in Slytherin because I'd seen Severus harassed on the train and you kept trying to force me into some other house and I told you I'd rather go home than not be in Slytherin? That 'conversation'? Yes, I do. Why?"

The Hat coughed delicately. "Because there's a misconception you've lived with for almost thirty years, Ms. Drecorum. And I think it's time it was laid aside."

Desi rolled her eyes. "You can quit with the 'Ms. Drecorum' nonsense anytime. My name is Desdemona. Or Desi, as my parents called me. Remus Lupin calls me Des, for some reason I've never gotten from him. Please, you don't need to hold with formality with me. And what misconception is that?"

"Perhaps a simple 'Drecorum' will do? I still prefer some level of formality." At her nod, the Hat continued. "You've believed all these years that you would have been sorted into Gryffindor that night if you hadn't begged me to place you in Slytherin. You've been wrong for years. It wouldn't have been either Snake or Lion for you."

Desi dropped her quill. "Excuse me?"

"Simply put, you're too balanced for either house. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin are very dominant houses; the people placed in them tend to exemplify the principles of that house to an overwhelming degree. However, you stand on the knife-blade of both. Living within one of those houses almost consumed you; hence why I fought you so hard that night, and why I resorted you that other night. The only reason I resorted you was to help you regain your balance. Otherwise, you would not be standing here today."

Well. The ancient piece of haberdashery was certainly full of surprises today. "And where exactly were you planning to sort me, had I let you have your way?"

There was a silence for a moment between Headmistress and Hat, before the voice lifted in the air again. "Most likely Ravenclaw. I considered Hufflepuff, but with your intellect, you would have made a great Ravenclaw."

She could see her younger self in Ravenclaw. If she thought optimistically about it for a few minutes. And squinted her inner eye. Hard. "I think I'm grateful I won that argument. And what do you mean 'help me regain my balance'? "

A soft sigh carried to her from the shelf. "When you ran to your grandfather that night, you were scared that Slytherin House would devour you, just as it did the young man you gave your heart to. You were closer to the truth than you knew. The same thirst to prove yourself, the drive to achieve power and control, even control over one's own life, would have taken over you if you had remained there much longer. It consumed the young man you begged me to let you save. That was why it was so necessary to send you to Gryffindor; to help you regain the sense of duty and obligation that was slowly fading in you. Without both sides of your soul, you couldn't ever be complete, and you couldn't possibly serve as this school's headmistress."

Desi's head was beyond swimming. She felt she would drown, quickly, with the insane amounts of insight the hat had given her that day. "Did my grandfather know this?"

The annoying thing about talking inanimate objects, Desi was discovering, was that they could only communicate with words. No gestures or facial expressions to read. It frustrated her to no end. All she knew was that the Hat replied, with absolutely no emotion in its voice, "Only that it was important to move you. Nothing more."

Silence sat between the two for a full hour.

"About that question I asked, Drecorum. When are you telling the young man your decision?"

Desi sighed. She thought she'd avoided that question. "Why do you keep asking me that? Which part of 'I'm not telling you' are you not grasping? Besides, if you can see in my head, why bother asking me?"

The Sorting Hat chuckled. She had a feeling she'd grow to hate that sound. "It's my job to point out problems in the headmaster's lines of thinking. In this case, I bother asking because I think you've made the wrong choice."

She had no idea what impulse kept her from throwing the Hat in the fireplace as she'd threatened to do hours before. "You can just keep your opinions about my decisions to yourself, you self-righteous, over-analytical piece of moth-eaten fabric! I don't know what kind of relationship you've had with headmasters in the past, but this crosses a line. I will not have some dead man's shabby hat tell me how to live my life. Is that clear?"

The Hat stood its ground. As much as it could, considering it didn't stand. "You still don't grasp what I was telling you, do you?"

"I guess I don't. Between my grandfather running away in the middle of the night, taking over the running of this school, a surprise proposal, exams, and my life story told to me by a hat, I'm not the most observant. Why don't you enlighten me?"

The Hat sighed, its voice sounding oddly exhausted. "The most important trait of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts is a sense of balance, mentally and emotionally. Without that balance, there is no way for the Headmaster to represent all four houses fairly and equally. Balance comes from a sense of being whole. In other words, Desdemona Drecorum, you need to be complete, mentally and emotionally, otherwise you're imbalanced. You haven't always been balanced."

At this, Desi rolled her eyes. "Really? And you know this how?"

The Hat ignored the sarcasm. "All those years in America, didn't you always feel as if some intangible part of you were missing? As if you weren't whole and in one piece? As if you were emotionally always slightly off-center? Always just slightly and inexplicably less than you should be?"

She stopped her sarcastic glare, her heart in her throat, no longer breathing. How did that – that thing know that?

"And now, you feel more complete. More emotionally balanced. Whole and centered. Am I right?" At Desi's dazed nods, the Hat continued. "When did that happen? When did the imbalance end?"

She knew the exact moment when it had. She remembered it like it was yesterday.

_Visions of guilt, remorse, self-loathing. _

_Waking up in the hospital wing, the taste of the potion still clinging to her lips._

_Three softly whispered words to an unconscious man._

"_I forgive you."_

Hadn't she gone through enough life-changing realizations today? "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She could have sworn the Hat moved in a slight manner, resembling a nod. "In terms of your balance and stability, Headmaster, and as the counselor of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I am encouraging you to rethink your decision."

Hell's bells. Why couldn't any decision in her life be easy?

* * *

The afternoon had passed by with some level of calm and normalcy, which surprised Severus, considering the turbulence that had come yesterday. The whirlwind of yesterday morning followed by the angst of his afternoon and the surprise heart-to-heart with Potter in the evening, broken up only by the dullness of giving final exams to his students, had given way to a rather boring day today. Grading was done, the students were packing to go home, and the end-of-term feast was mere hours away.

Gods, how he hated that damned feast. Every year, having to go through pomp and circumstance, having to sit there through speeches and listening to McGonagall sniffle away a tear, lest her students actually guess she cared, while the ungrateful children stuffed themselves one last time before finally abandoning the school and allowing the staff a few months of peace.

In all honesty, he didn't loathe his students. Well, not all the time. He just found the whole notion of feasts and parties and extravagance annoying beyond belief.

Where in Hades was she? Her note had been clear.

_We need to talk. Three o'clock, my office._

Well, he was here, cooling his heels, waiting for her.

She wasn't in her office.

"She's running late from another meeting, Professor, in case you wondered."

The voice drifted down from above his head and behind his back. Startled, he jumped, literally rising several inches off the ground. Whirling around in a flash of swaying black fabric, he turned to face the vaguely-familiar sound.

The Hat merely chuckled at the young man below him. "Severus Snape. I haven't spoken to you in roughly thirty years. Time has been kinder to you recently than I thought it would be."

Severus almost swallowed his own tongue. He wasn't sure what shocked him more; the fact that the Hat spoke to him at all, or what it had just said. "Um..."

"The cool and collected Head of Slytherin House has nothing to say for once? This is a surprise, indeed. Why, it seemed yesterday you had plenty to say, albeit rather ineloquently, if I may say so."

Damn it to bloody hell and back. That Hat had heard that conversation? Listened in on them the whole damned time! If he didn't know how important the Hat was to the school, he'd hex the thing into the next decade.

The Hat merely continued, unaware of the wrath that simmered under the man's outward calm. "Of course, it was time for that exchange to take place, wasn't it? Long overdue. But, that is the past, and cannot be rewritten. The future, however, is something of interest. Yes, indeed. And your future, young man, has taken quite the turn indeed, hasn't it?"

Snape coughed. Young man? He was years past forty, thank you very little! "What do you mean?"

"Well, the boy I met all those years ago, the lost, scared, angry boy I placed in Slytherin, has definitely gone through some changes. No longer the victim, the pawn to others' schemes and whims. Finally able to stand on his own feet, finally confident enough in himself to make choices he'd been too frightened to make, and definitely finally capable of letting the past remain in the past. Things you weren't capable of doing a short while ago. No, you were too hesitant, too unsure to follow your own heart or mind, which was what made you the perfect follower, the perfect protégé for men like Voldemort and Dumbledore."

Despite the man's jaw hanging wide open, the Hat continued its commentary. "You know, Dumbledore always felt guilty for what he did to you, using your feelings for Desdemona to convince you to join the Order. He said it wasn't right, because everyone else had used you to their advantage. Your father, the bullies you faced here, Voldemort, Dumbledore. Sometimes, I wondered if you'd ever be able to work past all of that and stand on your own."

Severus' mind whirled, his heart in his throat. Images he'd spent years pushing down into a well of forgottenness, all rising to the surface at the words from the shabby looking hat on a high shelf. He never wanted to remember some of those moments.

Some could never be forgotten.

The Hat filled the silence in the air. "I must admit, I had my doubts as to whether or not you could ever find your true self amidst all the pain and hate you carried in your heart for so many years. Dumbledore and I had quite a few conversations about it, actually. I can only look in your mind, see the potential locked away. Affairs of the heart are not my domain. I have to say, I was wrong. You have finally grown into the person you should have been, Severus Snape. And now you stand on the cusp of something new. Your future is not the same as it was a year ago. No longer the pawn on the chess board, but rather the player. It suits you. Both of you, actually. She needs someone who can command the board, not follow her direction."

"What in the deepest circle of Hell are you blathering about?" Above everything on the planet, above Voldemort, his father, most of the Gryffindor students he'd attended school with, complete idiots, and anything remotely shaded with pink, he hated riddles. Snape wasn't a humor kind of person to begin with, and he really reviled the metaphorical ways in which the Hat spoke. It reminded him of Albus Dumbledore at his most infuriating. He could only assume the 'she' referred to Desi. But references to chess boards and pieces? He didn't even play chess. What was the annoying piece of headwear even trying to say in the first place?

The Hat could feel the confusion in the person before him. It carried across the distance in waves. Sighing, it continued. "If the two of you are going to follow your futures together, she needs for you to be your own person, and not the lost, angry boy of your youth or the vengeful, loathing cynic who has taught here for all these years. She needs someone fully equal to her, to help her keep her balance. As do you. You need her as much as she needs you, as loathe in admitting it as you both are. Without one, the other is less. Together, you both are more. You both must be whole, otherwise the other is incomplete. This is why things did not work out twenty-six years ago. You couldn't have kept your promise to the young girl she was, because you were not whole, just as she could not forgive the young man who broke the promise, because part of her was incomplete. History, however, has finally come full circle, and the mistakes of the past are not replicated in the present, so the future is more in control, and you both can finally move onto the path you so desire to walk. Which, I might add, is long overdue."

His mouth felt dry and his shoulders heavy from the emotional weight the Hat was heaping on him. Desi had told him of the conversation she had with it yesterday, when it told her about her mother and why she was headmaster, and as he stared at her relating the tale with empty eyes, he'd hoped then and there that the hat would keep all words of wisdom about his own life to itself.

Obviously, if wishes were brooms, he'd ride a Firebolt.

"Well, I'm glad I have your blessing." The snide dry comment slowly came from Severus' parched throat. "And I'm thrilled that the school's Sorting Hat finally thinks I'm an adult. It relieves me."

The Hat roared with laughter. "Sarcasm, Severus Snape, is a talent few can wield as well as you. However, it is not my blessing you need. For that, you need to speak to the young lady herself. Suggest a course of action, I can do easily. Convince her to follow it, is something out of my control."

Dark black eyes squinted as Snape furrowed his brow and stared at the hat. Did it just... what did it mean her to...?

The chance to question the Hat as to what it meant by its cryptic commentary died as Desi flew through her office door, completely out of breath, hair and robes flying, the dark circles under her eyes making her look as if she needed a nap more than anything else in the world at that moment. "I'm so sorry. Some of the school governors came unannounced and I had to meet with them and I was starved so I nicked down to the kitchens and on my way back up I was stopped by McGonagall, and I only just now got away."

He tore his eyes away from her as she threw a stack of papers on her desk and breathed heavily, trying to regain composure, to stare one last time and the now-silent Hat.

"_However, it is not my blessing you need. For that, you need to speak to the young lady herself."_

Severus swallowed and looked at her. He still didn't quite know what had been on her mind when she'd left him that note, and right now, she looked too frazzled to have any conversation, light or heavy. Besides, after the conversation he had just been party to with the ancient relic in the room, he wasn't sure if he could handle a heart-to-heart with the woman he loved right now. Hell, he probably couldn't handle reciting a limerick to McGonagall right now. "Desi, if now isn't a good time...?"

The unfinished question hung in the air as Desi looked up, startled, at the man who'd spent the last twenty-five minutes waiting patiently for her to finally get around to him. Nervousness filled her, until she forced herself to take in a deep breath and push it aside. She didn't have time for nerves right now. She had far too much to accomplish and nowhere near enough time to accomplish it all. Biting her lip, she swallowed another gulp of air, and with it, some semblance of calm rationality.

Gods, she hoped she knew what she was doing.

She crossed the distance of the room and stood on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss against his lips. Glancing up into familiar eyes darker than a moonless midnight sky, she sighed, looking every ounce of the exhaustion she felt. To be honest, he didn't look that much better himself.

Damn. She didn't know if she could go through with it anymore.

_Girl, you don't have much of a choice, anymore, do you?_

If she was going to be honest with herself, no, she didn't. "Look, I've got the school feast in four hours and the closing of the school to oversee, and we both know our days are booked solid starting bright and early tomorrow morning. I don't have time to wait for a 'good time', Sev. It's now or never. Let's talk."

* * *

The air hummed with excitement, as it seemed to do at the end of every term. Exams were finished, trunks were packed, and the students all gathered one last time in the Great Hall to eat, to say goodbye, to be awarded the House Cup, and for the seventh years, to stare one last time at faces they had seen for years. For a very select few, it would be the last time they sat in the room as students. For others, it would be the last time they saw these walls until their children came to take their place.

For some of them, this would be the last time they ever saw the school.

Desdemona hated the Great Hall. It was something she'd never been able to tell her Grandfather, or the man seated to her left. So many memories of the room. Sitting on this raised dais, wearing the shabby hat which now spoke to her with a confident arrogance. The day she traded in her green and silver for red and gold, and had to remember which table was now hers. The years of sitting in silence and barely looking around. The first time she sat there as a professor, too afraid to look in the opposite direction.

However, she had little choice in the matter. It was her duty, and she would perform it completely.

At first, it was awkward. Minerva McGonagall had to actually remind her to take the center chair, just as she was pulling out the chair reserved for the Potions professor. The silence in the room was deafening when the slender witch sat down in a chair that had been her grandfather's for roughly thirty years. Desi honestly thought she could hear her own heart beating, pounding rapidly in fear and unease.

What right did she have to sit there? It shouldn't be her. Her grandfather should be sitting here, as he had for years.

Just thinking about that caused her to feel a fresh wave of loss. She had no idea where he was. Or even who he'd chosen to be his own secret-keeper. She'd offered. He'd refused her. He told her he was leaving her with more than enough burdens to bear to allow that.

"_You can't be serious, Papa? You can't leave the school! The students need you, more now than ever before. This damned war is going to rip their lives apart. It's already settled on their doorsteps; now the man who they admire and depend upon is leaving? It's insanity!"_

_An old man's tired regret. "Desdemona, child, if I did not have to, it wouldn't be. However, it is for the students, for the school, that I leave. It is not a decision I made lightly or without consideration of their feelings. In the end, it is the only decision I could make."_

_A young woman's wrath. "You're not telling me everything, Papa. I know you better than this. You're keeping something from me. What is it?"_

_Sadness encased in blue eyes. "There's a world I keep from you, little one. Sometimes, all I ever want to do is keep you safe from it all. However, I've now been told I cannot keep you from it any longer." A wistful sigh. "You will be the new Headmaster when I leave."_

_Shock freezing her heart. "Me? You're joking! If you're leaving to keep the school safe, how will having me as Headmaster change things? Voldemort's after me as much as he is you..."_

"_That is where you're wrong, child." Bitterness in the air. "With me gone, Voldemort will leave you be. That is the agreement."_

_Anger. "What agreement? Don't tell me you've bartered your freedom with a wizard hell-bent on destroying everything we hold dear just to save my skin! I'll run to America again. Or somewhere else! I'll go into hiding again! I will not have you put in danger to save me when I'm capable of saving myself."_

"_Not everything is solely about you, little one. I save you at the same time as I save others, some more precious to you than you care to admit."_

_Silence._

_A timid voice shattering the quiet. "Why me? Why am I the new Headmaster?"_

_A new voice. "Because I told him it would be you, Ms. Drecorum."_

_An hour later. An agreement. A spell. A seal on her mind._

Gods, she missed him right now.

No one in the room could guess at the nerves that were ripping her apart. On the outside, she was a case study in serenity, sweeping into the Headmaster's chair as if she were born to it, sitting straight and nodding to her right at the Gryffindor Head of House. To everyone else in the Great Hall, she seemed as collected and in control as any of them could remember her.

To everyone else, that is, except for Severus Snape. He knew better. There was one sure giveaway that Desi was anything less than calm.

Desi was never this quiet and serene.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, trying to not openly gawk at her as she sat with poise and elegance. It wouldn't do for the students to see him lose too much composure in front of them. He'd already changed more of his personality this year than he'd ever planned.

She was scared. She'd told him so as they'd walked into the Hall together moments ago. It was one thing for a hat and a bird to choose her as the new leader of the school. It was quite another to face the students as that leader. It was a far cry from the eleven year old girl who'd sauntered up to him, sat down, and began reviewing potions lessons with him under a pine tree one long-ago September. That girl hadn't been afraid of anything. But now she was nervous. Almost as nervous as she'd been a few hours ago. To see her trying not to fidget was almost endearing, in a really odd way.

At her nod, McGonagall tapped on her water glass to get the room's attention. Given the fact that every face in the room was riveted on their new Headmaster and the room was deadly quiet, it was unnecessary. However, tradition was tradition, and the gesture was completed anyway.

She was nervous. Not as anxious as she'd been earlier in the day, but still uneasy for some silly reason. Facing that sea of faces, knowing this was her introduction to Hogwarts, terrified her in some small way.

Why did she have to give some end-of-year speech?

_Because the bloody Hat told you to, you silly girl!_

Well, that was as good a reason as any.

The woman in crimson robes rose smoothly from her seat, casting wide blue eyes around the room at faces she'd grown to learn and recognize over the months. Her gaze swept over the sparse Slytherin table, minus students whose parents had removed them from school already in order to join the ranks of those wizards who Desi was now sworn to contest. The pang of regret residing in her heart made her keenly aware of how her grandfather must have felt for years. Catching a pair of silver eyes briefly, the regret slid aside to allow in a twinge of gratitude; there were depths to Draco Malfoy that had never before been realized. For that, she was thankful.

She stifled a smile when looking over at the Gryffindor table, at two of her favorite students sitting just a bit closer and with posturing just slightly more relaxed and natural than she'd ever seen them show towards each other. With a twinkle in her eye, she reminded herself to send a few galleons to Ginny Weasley as promised.

Across from them sat a pair of emerald eyes she'd know anywhere, after having looked into them for months across from her desk. She still hated what the Order had done to Harry Potter, what she'd helped discover, what fate had handed him for a future. All she could do now was pray that the young man left here with the strength he needed to face the upcoming days.

With a deep breath, she spoke. As if her mind was not her own, the right words poured from her lips. Words that spoke of the future, of the world that they'd been sheltered from during the school months, of the choices that every person in the room faced. Words that told the students more about her resolve and integrity than they'd ever expected. Words that allowed them all to grow and mature, even for a few minutes, and contemplate heavily on what awaited them all in King's Cross Station when they arrived there, on their long journeys home.

Most importantly, words that reassured every professor on the dais that the Hat had chosen correctly, words that reassured the younger students that this new woman who replaced their precious headmaster would teach, guide, and counsel them equally, and words that somehow soothed her own fears and regrets.

When the words finished coming from some hidden place in her mind, she gestured to the students to enjoy their feast, and settled back into her chair with grace and dignity.

Inwardly, she was in shock. It was done. It was real.

These were her students now. Her responsibility. Her legacy.

All around her, voices spoke over their final meal. Goodbyes exchanged, tears cried. The end of a chapter for so many people. The beginning of a prescribed chapter for some. For others, their second chance at choosing their own paths.

The feel of destiny and fate breathing down their necks, many of the seventh years were especially subdued and morose as the feast continued; the world outside held at bay for a few precious hours longer.

* * *

The silence was deafening.

With the students gone, the grounds took on an eerie quiet that disturbed most, but captivated others. The clouds drifted across the black sky, finally allowing the three-quarter moon to shine down upon the lake, castle stonework, and grassy landscape. Stars twinkled against a backdrop of darkness, and the soft June breeze barely disturbed the leaves in the tall trees that made up the Forbidden Forest.

All of this scenery, however, was lost on Severus, as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around the woman who was dozing, curled against his chest as they sat beneath trees as familiar to him as anything on the school grounds. In a few hours, dawn would be breaking. They should have gone inside hours ago.

Instead, they silently agreed to remain where they were, both refusing to let the moment end.

While Desi slipped peacefully into a light sleep, Severus stayed wide awake, too contemplative to let himself drift away as well. So many changes in such little time. The end of every charade that he'd played for years. No more pretending to loathe the young man who held the fate of wizard-kind in his hands. No more masquerading as the moody, repressed, angry Head of Slytherin House. No more putting on airs to keep former friends at bay solely to stay alive and useful to the man who offered him his chance at redemption.

Beyond all, no more lying to himself about who he was and what he wanted in life.

All he wanted, he held in his arms.

She shifted slightly, unconsciously, sliding her head down from his shoulder to right over his heart, tucking into a ball without realizing it. He opened his eyes long enough to make sure she was comfortable and covered by the cloak he'd spread over her sleeping form, and then closed them again, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the smell of sandalwood.

He'd asked himself to make a choice that had felt completely irrational and somehow perfectly and completely natural. To trust another human being with something that mattered more than a piece of paper or a bottle of liquid. To give himself over to someone else, to give her the power to hurt him or save him, to give someone else the key to his very soul. He'd asked himself to love someone else, to put their happiness and their safety and their needs above his own. He'd asked himself to let someone else love him, to be someone else's equal, to share every piece of himself with another human being. These were things he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime. Things he'd scoffed at others for doing. He didn't trust people. He didn't care for their safety or well-being. He sure as hell didn't allow his heart to ache if someone else so much as looked unhappy.

He'd asked himself to do all these things and more.

And it had come as naturally to him as breathing.

He smoothed back strands of auburn hair that the soft breeze had toyed with for a moment. He'd asked her to make a decision that would change their lives forever. He'd asked her to do the very things he'd asked of himself.

Her response had floored him.

Dawn's approach brought with it one gut-wrenching change. Tomorrow the woman in his arms would begin working on the administration of the school. She had no choice in the matter; Desi had meetings with the Ministry of Magic and the hiring of a new Potions professor to keep her busy, as well as pretending to have nothing to do with the war or either side of it. She had to begin the politically-charged dance that her grandfather had never been good at; it was all in the best interests of the students, after all, that this new Headmaster appear unbiased and unaffected by the war that had already begun ripping their kind in two.

He, on the other hand, would find himself in London, working again with the Order of the Phoenix while the summer holidays raced by, week after week. The war between the Dark and the rest of the wizarding world was coming to a close, true, but he was needed there. If nothing else reminded him of his all-too-consuming duty, the stylized lightening bolt and phoenix on his upper left arm served as an overly-potent reminder. Work waited for him, work only he could do, work blatantly necessary regardless of personal cost.

It was anyone's guess how much time the pair would be able to spend together after the morning sun rose, and he wasn't ready yet to let go of the one thing in his entire life that gave him a reason to fight, to win, to live.

Damn everything on Earth, he loved her.

Once, years ago, that realization almost drove him mad. Now, it made him feel complete. Whole. Balanced.

_The end of all the charades. The beginning of another._

Mindlessly, he took her hand in his as he held her, his back supported by the tree behind him, playing with her fingers while still contemplating the future. His thumb grazed against a thin silver band, the metal warmed by her skin.

Its counterpart dangled from a chain around his neck, tucked beneath black robes.

_The one secret I have left in this world that means anything to me._

He'd hated Desdemona Dumbledore at first. Loathed her with a passion. She'd been annoying and obnoxious. He didn't need someone with a smile on their face and a cuteness that only the young are allowed to possess following his every move. He never asked for a tag-along. He certainly didn't ask her to befriend him. Or fall in love with him. In fact, he had never asked her for anything except for her to go away.

Except for one night, when he asked her for understanding and forgiveness.

She'd finally gone away.

And with her, she took what remained of his heart. For it wasn't until that night that he realized he loved her in return.

That night had threatened to destroy him. He'd thought it had at one point, right before an old man in a dark room offered him his only chance for redemption.

Years later, the little girl re-entered his life, as changed by the passing decades as he had been. And in the most shocking turn of his life, she gave him back his heart.

He'd been offered few second chances in his life. The one that Desi had offered him had been the one he least deserved.

And the one for which he'd be forever grateful.


End file.
